PEB 


1 
_K0 

F'ROMTH  'fj\ 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


HASTINGS,  ThoiiiasC'  musician,  b.  in  Wash- 
ington, Litchfield  co.,  Conn.,  15  Oct.,  1784 ;  d.  in 
New  York  city,  15  May,  1872.  In  1796  he  removed 
with  his  parents  to  a  farm  in  Clinton,  N.  Y.  He 
attended  the  district-school,  and  began  to  study 
music  with  a  sixpenny  gamut-book  of  four  small 
pages.  When  about  eighteen  he  became  leader  of 
the  village  choir.  His  brother  presented  him  at 
this  time  with  an  elaborate  treatise  on  music, 
which  he  mastered  without  aid,  and  in  1806  he  was 
invited  to  take  charge  of  a  singing-school.  He 
soon  achieved  reputation  in  training  church-choirs, 
and  his  services  were  much  in  demand.  He  went 

1817  to   Troy,   subsequently  to   Albany,   and 

afterward  took  editorial  charge  of  a  religious  news- 
paper in  Utica  entitled  the  "  Western  .Recorder," 
which  gave  large  space  to  church-music.  He  held 
this  post  for  nine  years,  during  which  time  he  lec- 
tured repeatedly  in  Albany,  New  York,  Philadel- 
phia, and  Princeton,  N.  J.  In  1832  he  went  to  New 
York,  where  he  remained  till  his  death.  He  endeav- 
ored to  improve  the  character  of  the  church-music 
in  the  churches  of  New  York.  For  many  years 
he  was  choir-director  in  Dr.  Mason's  church  in 
Bleecker  street,  and  devoted  his  time  to  preparing 
collections  of  sacred  music,  the  composition  of 
tunes  and  hymns,  and  the  editing  of  musical  peri- 
odicals. He  was  a  constant  contributor  to  the  re- 
ligious press,  and  in  1835-'7  issued  the  "Musical 

Magazine."  The  University  of  the  city  of  New 
York  gave  him  the  degree  of  doctor  of  music  in 
1858.  His  publications  number  nearly  fifty  sepa- 
rate volumes,  and  include  "  The  Musical  Reader " 
(Utica,  1818) ;  "  Dissertation  on  Musical  Taste " 
(Albany,  1822 ;  2d  ed.,  rewritten,  New  York,  1853) ; 
"  Spiritual  Songs  "  (New  York,  1831) ;  "  The  Moth- 
er's Nursery  Songs "  (1834) ;  "  Anthems,  Motets, 
and  Set  Pieces  "  (1836) ;  "  The  Manhattan  Collec- 
tion "(1837);  "Elements  of  Vocal  Music "  (1839) ; 
"  Sacred  Songs  "  (1842) ;  "  Indian  Melodies  Har- 
monized "  (1845) ;  "  Devotional  Hymns  and  Poems  " 
(1850) ;  "  The  Presbyterian  Psalmodist  "  (Philadel- 
phia, 1852) :  "  The  History  of  Forty  Choirs  "  (New 
York.  1853);  "  Selah  "  (1856) :  "  Hastings's  Church 
Music  "  (1860) ;  and  "Introits"  (1865).— His  son, 
Thomas  Samuel,  clergyman,  b.  in  Utica,  N.  Y., 
28  Aug.,  1827,  was  graduated  at  Hamilton  in  1848, 
and  at  the  Union  theological  seminary.  New  York 
city,  in  1851.  He  was  pastor  of  Presbyterian 
churches  in  Mendham,  N.  J.,  in  1852-'6,  and  in 
New  York  city  in  1856-'82.  He  then  became  pro- 
fessor of  sacred  rhetoric  in  Union  theological  sem- 
inary, which  post  he  now  holds  (1887).  He  received 
the  degree  of  D.  D.  from  the  University  of  the 
city  of  New  York  in  1865.  He  edited  "Church 
1857. 


V 


PEBBLES 


FROM 


THE  PATH   OF  A  PILGRIM, 


BY  HARRIET  B.  HASTINGS. 


BOSTON: 

H.  L.  HASTINGS,  47  CORNHILL, 

LONDON  AGENTS  :  MARSHALL  BROTHERS, 

5a  PATKRNOSTKR  Kow,  E.  C. 

PHINTKD    IN    AMERICA. 


COPYRIGHT,  ]8?1, 
H.    L.    HASTINGS, 

BOSTON,    MASS, 


Pebbles,  13M— 2,  '94. 


KEPOSITOKT  FKESS,  VJ  COKNUILL 


8V 


PREFACE. 


In  the  path  of  pilgrimage  there  are  many  rough  and 

(s>     toilsome  places,  and  often  tlie  wayfarer's  feet  are  worn 

uj     and  wearied  with  the  march,  and  bruised  by  pebbles 

that  are  scattered  ulong  the  road.     Yet  some  of  these 

oc     are   precious   stones,    and    are   well   worth    preserving. 

gg     And  so  I  have  gathered  up  a  few  of  the  pebbles  in  the 

Zi     path,  and  as  the  journey's  end  seems  drawing  on,  I  love 

to  look  over  the  treasures  which  memory  has  stored  up, 

^      and  show  to  my  fellow  travelers  some  of    the  precious 

things  which  I  have  found  in  the  way  that  the  Lord 

CM      hath  led  me. 

§         This  little  book  is  a  book  of  facts,  not  of  fancies ;  of 
pebbles,  not  of  fables.     It  has  been  the  distinct  inten- 
tion,  to  embellish  nothing  and  to  invent  nothing;  but 
Q      simply  to  represent  facts  as  they  actually  occurred  in  the 
°      gone-by  years.     Many    precious    things    have    escaped 
O       from  memory,  and  names   and   dates  and  places   have 
2       sometimes  been  lost  beyond  recall;  but  the  facts  here 
ui       related  stand   clearly  out  upon   memory's   pages,    and 
in  many  instances  they  have  been  and  can  be  confirmed 
by  the  testimony  of  two  or  three  witnesses,  by  which 
every  word  shall  be  established. 

This  little  book  is  sent  forth  in  response  to  the  earnest 
call  of  many  interested  friends,  some  of  them,  long  and 


448141 


Preface. 

well  known,  and  others  who  have  sent  a  stranger's  greet- 
ing, and  offered  a  stranger's  prayer  for  a  benediction 
upon  the  little  volume,  even  while  it  was  yet  unfinished. 
It  will  not  be  needful  to  explain  to  such  persons  the 
purpose  of  this  book,  and  it  only  remains  to  ask  of  those 
who  love  to  pray,  that  they  will  beseech  the  Most  High 
to  grant  his  blessing  on  those  who  peruse  these  simple 
records  that  they  also  may  be  guided  in  the  path  of 
pilgrimage,  and  led  into  the  goodly  land  with  all  the 
ransomed  of  the  Lord.  May  we  meet  there,  is  the 

prayer  of 

THE  AUTHOR. 

October,  1881. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 
THE  FATHERLESS  GIRL 9   " 

THE  STORY  OF  AN  APRON 34  ^ 

A  BLESSED  CHILD 45   ' 

THE  ORPHAN  GIRL 5G  i 

THE  BROKEN  SNARE 66 

THE  REFUGE 75 

A  SAD,  SAD  TALE 76     ^ 

THE  FOUR  BED-QUILTS 81 


"ONE  MORE  UNFORTUNATE." 91 

MY  THANKSGIVING  DINNER 100    r 

Two  SUITS  OF  CLOTHES 117 

LENT  AND  PAID  AGAIN 124 

SOUTHERN  MISSION  WORK 142     // 

TO  MY  WIFE 150 

THE  PARTING 153 


Contents. 

INCIDENTS  IN  SOUTHERN  WORK 156 

AMONG  THE  SAND  HILLERS  ...   .  156 

A  CARPENTER  PROVIDED 164 

UNDERGROUND  TELEGRAPHS  .  .  .  170 

OVERCOMING  EVIL  WITH  GOOD.    .  181 

A  THOUSAND  DOLLARS 187 

THE  REGIONS  BEYOND 191 

A  TRIP  TO  TENNESSEE 202 

A  SOUTHERN  TRIP 206 

SUMMARY  OF  SOUTHERN  WORK 2b4 

RECEIPTS  AND    EXPENSES 240 

SUPPLIES  DISTRIBUTED 242 

REPOSITORY  OUTLAY 245 

UNSECTARIAN    WORK 250 

SCRIPTURAL  TRACT  REPOSITORY 257 

"TRIED  WITH  FIRE" 265 

DELIVERANCES  FROM  DEATH 275 

THE  FALLING  BRIDGE 279 

A  FEARFUL  RIDE 281 

DREAMS  AND  IMPRESSIONS 287 

MURDER  IN  THE  AIR 288 

CALLED  FROM   DINNER 291 

OMINOUS  DREAMS 294 

A  JONAH  VOYAGE 300 

G 


THE  FATHERLESS  GIRL. 


There  is  no  school  like  experience  in  which 
to  learn  lessons  of  pity,  sympathy,  and  love. 
There  God  teaches  us  to  care  for  those  who 
are  in  trouble  and  affliction.  There  we  are  pre- 
pared to  weep  with  those  that  weep  ;  and  the 
lessons  thus  graven  on  our  souls  can  never  be 
erased. 

Thus,  by  bitter  sorrows  and  suffering,  God 
taught  me  in  the  days  of  my  early  childhood  to 
pity  the  fatherless  and  sympathize  with  the 
afflicted. 

"Keep  together,  Harriet,"  said  my  father, 
half  deliriously,  to  his  wife,  who  watched  by 
his  side,  while  he  lay  upon  his  dying  bed. 

"Keep  together,"  he  repeated;  as  if  some 
premonition  of  scattering  and  trouble  was  in 
his  mind  ; — and  so  he  died. 

But  there  were  seven  of  us  children ,  six  of 

whom  were  unmarried  and  at  home,  and  I  was 

the   youngest  of  them  all ;  and  poor  mother, 

though  full  of  energy,  economy,    and    thrift, 

9 


The  Fatherless  Girl. 

found  it  a  task  to  care  for  and  watch  over  such 
a  flock  of  growing  and  headstrong  children  as 
we  were. 

Soon  after  father  died  a  man  named  C.  came 
to  visit  my  mother.  He  professed  great  sym- 
pathy for  her,  and  pretended  that  he  had  been 
one  of  my  father's  warmest  friends. 

My  mother  knew  but  little  of  him,  except 
that  he  had  formerly  carried  the  mail ;  but  as 
he  seemed  greatly  interested  in  our  welfare 
and  appeared  very  kind,  she  consented  to  have 
him  appointed  as  guardian  for  her  children,  as 
she  felt  that  the  care  of  them  was  too  great  a 
task  for  her. 

After  he  was  appointed  as  our  guardian  he 
persuaded  her  that  it  was  better  to  have  the 
children  bound  out.  He  wanted  the  eldest 
boy ;  another  was  taken  away  thirty  miles ; 
another  forty  ;  a  sister  was  taken  twelve  miles 
in  another  direction,  and  only  myself  and  my 
sister  next  older  remained  at  home. 

Mr.  C.  wanted  mother  to  give  me  to  him, 
but  she  was  unwilling  to  do  it ;  but  she  con- 
sented that  my  sister  should  go  with  him  and 
remain  in  his  family  for  a  while.  She  accord- 
ingly went,  to  my  great  sorrow,  for  the  parting 
was  very  bitter. 

Not  long  after   my  mother  married  again, 
10 


The  Fatherless  Girl. 

and  then  my  sister  returned,  and  we  were  at 
home  together  once  more,  where  we  remained 
until  my  guardian  took  her  away  again,  to  a 
place  forty  miles  distant,  where  he  bound  her 
out  till  she  was  eighteen. 

When  I  was  eight  years  old,  my  guardian 
came  to  the  school-house  on  the  last  day  of  the 
school  and  called  for  me  to  go  with  him.  He 
said  he  had  come  to  take  me  home.  I  felt 
badly,  but  did  not  dare  to  refuse.  He  told  me 
to  get  my  books  and  go  to  his  house  on  a  visit. 

As  my  step-father  was  not  very  partial  to 
me,  and  my  guardian  seemed  to  think  a  great 
deal  of  me,  I  did  not  make  much  objection  to 
the  arrangement.  It  seemed  that  he  thought  I 
would  make  a  good  scholar,  and  he  said  he 
always  meant  to  have  me  live  with  him,  any 
way. 

But  it  was  not  home  for  me.  I  had  never 
been  absent  from  my  home  a  night  before,  and 
I  soon  became  very  homesick.  My  guardian 
sent  me  to  school  in  his  neighborhood,  but  I 
became  so  homesick  that  I  would  cry  day  and 
night  to  go  home  and  see  my  mother. 

They  had  little  patience  with  my  sorrows, 
and  gave  me  no  encouragement  about  return- 
ing home,  but  he  told  me  I  was'  to  live  with 
him.    He  had  also  sent  word  to  my  mother  that 
11 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

I  had  pleaded  so  hard  for  him  to  take  me  home 
from  school  with  him  that  he  could  not  refuse, 
though  he  was  not  willing  to  do  it ;  and  had  in- 
formed her  that  I  was  contented  and  happy  in 
his  family. 

My  mother  knew  that  he  had  long  been  anx- 
ious to  get  me  into  his  family,  and  thought  he 
must  be  a  kind  man,  and  as  I  manifested  no 
uneasiness  or  discontent,  so  far  as  she  knew, 
she  was  satisfied  with  my  condition.  But  I  did 
not  like  the  family.  They  had  a  boy  ten  or 
twelve  years  of  age,  who  was  rather  passionate, 
and  seemed  inclined  to  find  fault.  He  com- 
plained of  me ;  said  he  did  not  like  me,  and 
that  I  would  run  away  from  him  on  the  way 
to  school;  he  would  snow-ball,  hector  and 
plague  me,  call  me  "cry-baby,"  and  twit  me 
about  my  father  being  dead,  and  so  tease  me 
in  very  many  ways,  till  I  was  heart-sick  and 
homesick  enough. 

At  length  I  told  the  scholars  in  school  of  my 
troubles,  and  they  sympathized  with  me,  for 
the  whole  school  disliked  the  boy.  But  their 
taking  my  part  of  course  set  the  whole  family 
more  against  me,  and  made  my  situation  still 
more  unpleasant. 

Mr.  C.  proved  to  be  a  harsh  and  cruel  man. 
Rumor  said  that  he  had  lived  at  the  South, 
12 


The  Fatherless  Girl. 

and  had  left  there  on  account  of  cruelties  com- 
mitted against  servants  or  others  beneath  his 
charge.  How  this  was  I  know  not.  I  can 
only  speak  of  what  I  know. 

His  eldest  daughter  had  grown  up  a  kind,  ten- 
der-hearted girl,  and  pitied  me  and  showed  me 
kindness ;  but  the  rest  of  the  family  seemed 
much  like  the  father ;  and  in  such  hands  a 
fatherless  girl  could  but  fare  hard.  Meat  that 
was  so  poor  that  others  did  not  wish  to  eat  it, 
they  would  give  to  me ,  with  crusts  of  bread  to 
carry  to  school  for  dinner,  while  they  put  up 
pies  and  cakes  for  their  son's  dinner.  The 
difference  in  our  fare  was  so  great  that  both 
pupils  and  teacher  noticed  it,  and  spoke  to  me 
about  it,  and  at  length,  seeing  how  I  longed 
and  pined  to  get  home ,  they  advised  me  to  run 
away  and  go  and  see  my  mother. 

Home  was  seven  miles  away,  and  Mr.  C.'s 
house  stood  between  the  school-house  and 
home  ;  but  liberty  was  sweet,  and  I  longed  to 
see  my  mother's  face  once  more,  and  deter- 
mined to  go  home.  Sunday  came,  but  my  con- 
science would  not  let  me  start  to  go  so  far  that 
day,  but  on  Monday  morning,  while  the  wintry 
rain  was  pouring  down,  I  undertook  to  make 
my  escape,  as  I  had  fully  determined  that  I 
would  go  home  that  day  if  possible. 

13 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

Accordingly  I  arose  early,  before  the  family 
were  astir,  put  my  scanty  wardrobe  in  a  pillow- 
case, and  carried  it  out  a  little  way  toward  the 
school-house  and  buried  the  parcel  in  the  snow 
by  the  roadside.  When  I  returned,  Mr.  C.  had 
arisen,  and  as  he  saw  me  coming  toward  the 
house  he  wondered  at  my  appearance  at  such 
an  hour,  and  asked  me  where  I  had  been.  I 
told  him  I  had  been  to  walk,  and  so  left  him  in 
ignorance  of  my  plans. 

About  school-time  it  rained  so  hard  that  they 
thought  it  was  not  prudent  for  their  son  to  go 
to  school ;  but  I  pleaded  so  hard,  and  told  how 
long  I  had  been  at  the  head  of  the  class,  and 
how  much  I  wanted  to  gain  the  prize,  that  they 
let  me  go.  I  told  them  the  truth,  for  I  did 
want  to  go  to  school  and  get  the  prize  ;  but  I 
wanted  to  see  my  mother  so  much  more,  that  I 
felt  I  could  not  be  denied  the  privilege.  And 
I  saw  no  way  to  get  home  but  to  pretend  that 
I  was  going  to  school.  I  do  not  say  that  it  was 
right ;  but  I  was  only  a  little  girl,  and  was  in 
great  trouble. 

After  I  had  started,  and  got  well  out  of  sight, 
the  women  went  to  get  my  clothes  for  washing. 
Everything  belonging  to  me  was  missing ; 
what  could  it  mean?  It  meant  something,  of 
course.  My  morning  walk  was  also  remem- 

14 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

bered,  and  Mr.  C.  at  once  started  out  upon  my 
track.  I  had  meanwhile  gone  on  to  the  place 
where  I  had  deposited  my  clothing,  and  taking 
this  I  got  over  the  fence  and  went  around  a  large 
hill  and  through  a  piece  of  woods,  till  I  could 
get  past  the  house  and  on  the  road  towards  my 
home.  It  was  raining  hard,  and  I  sank  down 
deep  into  the  snow  at  every  step ;  but  my 
heart  was  so  light  at  the  thought  of  home  that 
I  hardly  knew  what  I  was  suffering,  and  went 
bravely  on. 

When  I  had  gone  past  the  house,  as  my  feet 
were  wet  and  cold,  I  sat  down  and  put  on  a 
pair  of  dry  stockings  ;  but  while  doing  it  I  saw 
a  man  whom  Mr.  C.  had  sent  to  trace  me  fol- 
lowing on  my  track.  I  supposed  it  was  Mr. 
C.,  and,  filled  with  fright  and  dread,  I  hurried 
on  my  stockings  and  ran  through  the  woods 
into  the  road,  when  who  should  I  meet  but  Mr. 
C.  himself,  who  had  gone  on  before  to  intercept 
me,  and  was  coming  to  meet  me  with  a  large 
whip  in  his  hand.  I  was  very  much  frightened 
and  ran  toward  him,  crying  with  fear. 

"  Put  for  home  !"  said  he,  and  he  whipped 
me  all  the  way  home,  and  continued  to  whip 
me  after  I  had  arrived  there. 

The  next  day  they  sent  me  to  school,  and 
charged  me  not  to  tell  any  one  what  had  hap- 

15 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

pened.  Their  boy,  however,  told  the  scholars 
that  I  had  been  whipped,  but  this  only  made 
them  hate  him  and  pity  me  the  more. 

After  enduring  the  irksomeness  of  my  po- 
sition about  a  week  longer,  the  school  children 
advised  me  to  start  for  home  again.  I  went 
the  same  way,  but  left  my  clothes  behind 
me.  I  got  past  the  house  and  into  the  road, 
and  had  gone  about  two  miles  when  I  heard 
the  noise  of  sleigh-bells  behind  me.  I  had 
been  taught  that  it  was  not  polite  for  children 
to  look  around  when  travellers  were  passing, 
and  so  I  walked  along,  minding  my  own 
business,  when,  to  my  astonishment,  Mr.  C. 
drove  past  me,  on  his  way  to  the  next  village. 

He  saw  me,  turned  his  sleigh  around,  and 
without  saying  a  word,  took  me  back  into  a 
room  where  his  youngest  daughter  was  weav- 
ing suspenders,  tied  me  to  the  loom  beside 
her,  and  then  went  about  his  business. 

After  he  had  gone,  this  daughter,  who  in- 
herited her  father's  disposition,  came  along 
where  I  stood  crying,  and  tied  my  hands 
more  closely,  drawing  them  up  so  that  my 
feet  barely  touched  the  floor.  While  in  this 
cruel  position,  I  wrung  and  twisted  my  wrists 
around,  and  this  hurt  so  that  I  screamed  with 
pain.  Mrs.  C.  came  in  a  rage  to  see  what 

16 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

the  matter  was,  and  said  she  would  have  the 
noise  stopped.  On  inquiring  into  the  case, 
she  scolded  her  daughter  severely,  and  untied 
my  wrists  and  took  me  down.  She  then  put 
some  mutton  tallow  on  my  wrists,  tied  them 
up  in  cloths,  and  then  put  some  knit  woollen 
wristlets  on,  which  pleased  me  much.  She 
then  told  me  if  I  showed  my  wrists  to  any 
one  I  should  have  another  whipping,  but  if  I 
would  be  a  good  girl  and  say  nothing  about 
it,  they  would  let  me  go  to  school  in  the 
afternoon,  and  would  not  tie  me  up  any 
more  if  I  would  ask  Mr.  C.'s  forgiveness 
when  he  came  home.  I  agreed  to  the  pro- 
posal, and  accordingly  asked  his  forgiveness. 

I  went  to  school  again  in  the  afternoon, 
but  was  so  homesick  during  school-time  that 
I  cried  as  if  my  heart  would  break.  The 
teacher  inquired  what  I  was  weeping  about. 

I  told  him  I  did  not  wish  to  tell.  My 
wrists  pained  me  greatly,  for  I  had  taken 
cold  in  them,  and  they  were  badly  swollen. 
He  saw  the  cloths  under  my  wristlets ; — I 
wanted  him  to  see  them,  but  did  not  dare 
to  tell  him  anything ; — and  he  wished  to 
know  what  was  the  matter  with  my  arms. 
I  would  not  tell. 

"What  does  all  this  mean?"  said  he. 

17 


The  Fatherless  Girl. 

"If  I  tell  I  shall  have  a  whipping,"  was 
my  reply.  He  was  so  indignant  that  he  could 
hardly  contain  himself.  At  recess  all  gathered 
around  me  to  know  wThat  had  happened,  and 
said  if  I  would  tell  them,  Mr.  C.  should 
know  nothing  about  it.  So  I  told  them,  and 
some  of  the  children  went  home  and  told 
their  parents,  and  Mr.  C.'s  boy  went  home 
and  told  his  folks  that  I  had  told  the  matter 
to  the  school;  this,  of  course,  enraged  them 
still  more,  and  Mr.  C.  gave  me  such  a  shaking 
that  it  seemed  as  if  he  would  shake  my 
head  off. 

The  next  week  the  school  was  to  close, 
and  there  was  not  much  more  said  or  done 
about  the  matter.  Mr.  C.'s  family  disliked 
me  much,  with  the  exception  of  the  eldest 
daughter,  who  used  to  put  her  arms  around 
me,  and  kiss  me,  and  call  me  a  poor  father- 
less girl,  and  say,  "R —  loves  Hattie."  Her 
sympathy  comforted  me  much,  but  she  did 
not  dare  let  her  father  or  mother  know  any- 
thing about  it.  The  teacher  said  the  neigh- 
bors must  do  something  about  the  matter,  for 
it  would  not  do  to  have  that  poor  fatherless 
girl  suffer  so.  The  people  sympathized  with 
me,  for  they  knew  Mr.  C.'s  character  much 
better  than  my  mother  did.  Little  did  she, 

18 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

poor  woman,  think  how  her  child  was  obliged 
to  suffer  while  away  from  her  and  among 
strangers. 

One  Saturday  night,  the  last  week  but  one 
of  the  school,  I  borrowed  a  book  belonging  to 
one  of  the  school  boys,  and  took  it  home  to 
Mr.  C.'s  to  read.  On  Sunday  the  youngest 
daughter  came  to  my  room  to  see  what  I  was 
about,  and  found  me  reading  it. 

"  How  did  you  come  by  this  book  ?"  said  she. 

I  told  her  that  I  borrowed  it.  She  took  the 
book  down  stairs,  saying, 

"Father,  here  is  a  book  she  has  got.  It 
is  n't  her  book." 

"  I  know  whose  it  is,  and  she  has  stolen  it," 
said  the  boy. 

It  seemed  that  they  wanted  some  pretext  for 
punishing  me,  and  now  they  had  it.  The  night 
before  the  snow  had  fallen  to  the  depth  of 
nearly  two  feet ;  and  it  was  still  snowing.  But 
they  sent  me  off  to  the  school-house  alone  in 
the  storm,  a  distance  of  three  quarters  of  a 
mile,  over  a  road  where  not  a  track  had  been 
made,  to  return  the  "  stolen  "  book.  It  was  an 
awful  day ;  the  cold  was  severe,  the  wind  blew 
like  a  hurricane,  and  as  a  result  of  the  exposure, 
I  took  a  hard  cold,  and  my  limbs  were  swollen 
very  badly  indeed. 

19 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

Monday  came,  and  on  my  return  to  school  I 
went  to  the  boy  who  owned  the  "stolen"  book 
and  asked  him  if  he  did  not  lend  it  to  me.  He 
said  he  did.  I  then  told  him  and  the  teacher 
that  Mr.  C.'s  boy  said  I  stole  it.  The  teacher 
was  indignant,  and  punished  the  false  accuser  ; 
and  that  of  course  enraged  his  parents  still 
more  against  me  ;  and  the  boys  also  threw  him 
down  and  abused  him  so  that  his  parents  took 
him  out  of  school. 

The  neighbors  now  contemplated  doing  some- 
thing to  stop  Mr.  C.'s  ill-treatment  of  me  ;  but 
I  was  so  homesick  that  I  felt  I  could  wait  no 
longer.  I  was  losing  •  flesh  rapidly  ;  my  rosy 
cheeks  had  gone,  and  I  seemed  like  a  walking 
ghost,  instead  of  a  healthy,  happy  child  ;  and  I 
thought  I  might  as  well  die  one  way  as  another, 
and  so  I  determined  to  go  home  if  possible. 

I  waited  a  while,  and  then  went  up  stairs  and 
took  my  cloak  and  bonnet  and  threw  them  out 
of  the  window,  my  other  clothes  having  been 
hidden ;  and  then  I  carried  them  up  into  the 
woods  and  hid  them  under  a  log.  I  returned 
in  a  playful  way,  singing  as  I  came,  and  took 
dinner  with  the  family.  After  dinner  I  went 
out  back  of  the  house,  thinking  to  go  and  get 
my  bonnet  and  start  for  home,  singing  as  I 
went ;  but  my  singing,  which  they  once  had 
20 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

delighted  in,  now  only  added  to  their  hatred,  and 
presently  I  heard  an  awful  call,  it  seemed  like 
a  lion's  roar  ; — it  was  Mr.  C.,  calling  my  name. 
I  knew  by  the  tone  of  his  voice  that  iny  plans 
were  discovered. 

"Where  is  your  cloak  and  bonnet?"  said  Mr. 
C.,  roughly. 

"Up  in  the  woods,"  I  replied. 

He  ordered  me  to  go  and  get  them.  I  did 
so,  and  he  and  his  boy  followed  me,  and  on  my 
way  back  they  would  push  me  down  about  as 
fast  as  I  could  get  up.  Once  I  fell  on  my  face, 
causing  my  nose  to  bleed,  but  still  they  fol- 
lowed me  and  pushed  me  before  them,  till  we 
reached  the  house,  when  Mr.  C.  opened  the 
door  and  pushed  me  in  writh  such  force  that  I 
went  headlong  across  the  room,  and  fell  flat 
upon  my  hands  and  face,  feeling  such  a  thrill 
of  pain  at  the  fall  as  I  have  not  yet  forgotten. 

Mr.  C.  then  sent  his  son  to  get  two  of  the 
roughest  and  knottiest  beech  whips  he  could 
find.  He  brought  them,  and  they  were  cruel- 
looking  things  ;  and  the  father  then  took  me 
into  a  back  parlor,  away  from  the  street,  so 
that  passers-by  could  not  hear  what  was  going 
on,  and  tied  my  hands  behind  me,  lifted  my 
clothes,  laid  me  face  downward  upon  a  table, 
told  me  that  I  had  committed  twenty-one 
21 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

offences,  such  as  running  away,  stealing  the  book, 
lying  about  my  morning  walk,  and  other  things 
which  I  have  forgotten,  and  that  he  was  now 
going  to  strike  me  twenty-one  blows, — a  blow 
for  every  fault. 

He  also  called  his  eldest  daughter  to  count 
the  blows,  and  then  began  his  cruel  work. 

Blow  after  blow  fell  upon  my  quivering  flesh, 
the  knotty  stick  being  wielded  by  a  strong  and 
cruel  hand,  and  falling  thick  and  fast,  until  the 
blood  gushed  and  trickled  over  the  bruised  and 
swollen  flesh,  and  my  cries  would  have  melted 
a  heart  of  stone.  He  had  given  me  fifteen 
blows  when  his  daughter  could  bear  it  no  long- 
er, and  cried  out,  "Father,  father,  don't  whip 
her  any  more  ;  you  will  kill  her."  But  he  was 
full  of  rage  and  whipped  the  harder  for  her 
pleading,  threatening  to  do  the  same  by  her  if 
she  did  not  mind  her  own  business,  till  at  length 
the  dear  girl  could  bear  it  no  longer,  but  stepped 
between  us,  saying, 

"Father,  you  must  not." 

He  then  stopped  striking  me,  and  got  the 
camphor  bottle,  placed  me  upon  my  feet,  poured 
the  camphor  over  my  bleeding  limbs,  and  rubbed 
it  into  the  wounds,  while  I  danced  and  shrieked 
with  agony,  and  came  very  near  going  into  con- 
vulsions. 


The  Fatherless  Girl. 

The  punishment  was  over,  but  the  results  re- 
mained. My  flesh  was  bruised,  and  torn,  and 
swollen,  and  I  took  a  cold  which  settled  in  my 
limbs,  so  that  for  more  than  two  weeks  I  could 
not  walk  a  step  without  severe  pain.  One  day 
Mr.  C.  told  me  if  I  would  walk  across  the  floor 
I  might  go  and  see  my  mother.  I  started  up, 
highly  delighted,  but  could  not  do  it  to  save  my 
life,  and  so  he  said  I  could  not  go. 

Things  were  by  this  time  getting  in  rather 
bad  shape  for  Mr.  C.,  and  it  seemed  high  time 
that  I  was  sent  out  of  that  neighborhood.  So 
he  engaged  Mr.  K,.,  the  mail-carrier,  who  was 
not  so  well  acquainted  with  him  as  some  were, 
to  carry  me  immediately  to  the  neighboring 
town  of  W.,  to  a  place  which  he  had  provided 
for  me  at  the  house  of  Mr.  S. 

I  knew  not  what  was  before  me, — no  place 
could  be  much  worse  than  where  I  was, — but  I 
knew  I  could  not  go  home,  and  this  made  me 
very  sad.  I  went  in  the  mail-wagon,  which 
passed  down  the  river  road  just  opposite  my 
home ,  and  in  plain  sight  of  the  cottage  where  I 
was  born,  and  where  my  poor  mother  still  lived, 
unconscious  of  the  sorrows  of  her  child.  Two 
miles  below  there  the  road  crossed  the  river  and 
ran  on  the  same  side  where  my  home  was.  I 
looked  with  longing  eyes  across  the  stream  as 

23 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

we  passed,  hoping  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  my 
mother's  form,  that  she  might  see  me  and  know 
where  I  was  going ;  but  it  was  all  in  vain  ;  no 
mother  appeared,  and  the  poor  fatherless  girl 
was  carried  away  among  strange  voices  and 
strange  faces  once  more. 

But  still  the  Lord  had  his  eye  upon  the  lonely 
child,  and  led  me  to  a  Christian  home.  The 
family  where  I  was  sent  had  every  confidence 
in  Mr.  C.  as  a  professor  of  religion,  he  being  a 
member  of  the  church  to  which  they  belonged. 
He  had  told  them  that  my  step-father  was  very 
ugly  to  me,  and  he  had  taken  me  away  from 
home  on  that  account,  and  he  wanted  them  to 
take  care  of  me.  He  said  my  mother  was  not 
capable  of  taking  care  of  me,  and  he  thought  it 
his  duty  to  do  it.  He  told  them  also  that  I  was 
a  very  stubborn  child  and  difficult  to  manage, 
and  represented  to  them  that  the  soreness  of 
my  skin  was  caused  by  a  disease  which  I  had 
contracted,  and  a  cold  which  had  settled  in  my 
limbs.  All  this  seemed  plausible  to  them,  but 
when  I  arrived  there  their  faith  in  it  seemed 
somewhat  shaken. 

Mr.  C.  had  threatened  to  whip  me  again  if  I 
told  any  one  what  was  the  matter  with  me,  and 
had  told  me  what  I  must  say  if  I  was  asked 
what  ailed  me. 

24 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

The  lady  looked  at  my  hands,  and  examined 
me,  but  saw  no  signs  of  the  disease  she  had 
been  told  I  had ;  and  finally  asked  me  if  I  had 
the  "itch."  I  told  her  "Yes ;"  as  I  had  been 
commanded. 

"But  how  came  these  gashes  f  said  the  good 
woman. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  I,  for  I  dared  not  tell 
the  truth  about  it,  and  Mr.  C.  had  provided  me 
with  no  answer  to  that  question. 

"Did  your  step-father  ever  whip  you  or 
abuse  you?"  said  she. 

"He  never  did  anything  to  me  only  pour 
some  water  on  my  head  once,  that  was  all," 
said  I. 

Mr.  C.  had  told  them  that  I  might  tell  wrong 
stories,  as  my  step-father  had  abused  me,  and 
I  stood  greatly  in  fear  of  him.  So  they  were 
prepared  for  evasions,  and  yet  they  hardly 
knew  what  to  make  of  the  case  as  it  presented 
itself. 

They  found  me  quiet  and  obedient,  and 
liked  me  much  better  than  they  had  expected 
to,  after  hearing  Mr.  C.'s  reports  about  me. 

My  mother  was  a  praying  woman,  and  had 
always  taught  me  to  go  to  the  Lord  in  prayer. 
So  when  I  went  to  bed  at  night,  what  good 
times  I  would  have,  telling  all  my  troubles  to 

25 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

the  Lord  !  It  was  my  only  comfort.  I  was  so 
homesick  that  it  seemed  as  if  I  should  never 
rise  above  my  griefs  ;  but  in  prayer  I  found  con- 
solation. 

When  I  retired  to  rest  the  night  after  my  ar- 
rival at  Mr.  S.'s,  they  heard  me  in  my  chamber 
praying;  and  creeping  softly  up,  they  listened 
to  my  prayer.  And  they  kept  up  this  practice 
continually,  as  I  was  afterwards  informed. 

Alone  with  God,  I  poured  out  my  griefs  be- 
fore him.  I  would  say,  "O  Lord,  I  am  sorry 
I  told  a  lie  about  what  ailed  me ;  I  am  sorry 
that  I  told  Mr.  C.  that  I  would  not  tell  anybody 
how  he  whipped  me ;"  and  thus  I  would  go  on, 
and  cry,  and  grieve,  and  tell  the  Lord  how 
much  I  suffered,  and  how  I  longed  to  see  my 
mother,  and  I  would  pray  that  the  Lord  would 
send  some  one  else  to  tell  Mr.  S.  how  Mr.  C. 
had  made  me  lie,  and  that  I  did  not  have  the 
disease  he  represented,  but  that  it  was  where 
he  whipped  me ; — and  so  on  to  the  end. 

Night  after  night  they  listened  to  my 
prayers,  till  it  came  to  be  almost  an  old  story, 
wondering  by  day  at  my  quiet  and  peaceable 
disposition, — until  they  were  convinced  that 
I  was  too  young  to  use  art  or  play  the  hypo- 
crite in  such  a  matter.  At  length  they  could 
stand  it  no  longer,  and  taking  me  into  a 

26 


J'O  LORD,  I  AM  SORRY  I  TOLD  A  LIE."  l'< 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

room  alone,  they  questioned  me  about  how 
I  came  to  leave  my  home. 

I  told  them  I  was  at  school,  and  Mr.  C. 
came  and  wanted  me  to  go  with  him,  and 
he  had  not  time  for  me  to  go  and  see  my 
mother.  They  looked  significantly  at  each 
other,  and  I  knew  that  they  were  satisfied 
with  my  story.  I  gathered  courage  from 
their  looks,  anc1  a  hope  dawned  within  my 
heart  that  they  would  befriend  me. 

They  sought  to  win  my  confidence.  They 
saw  I  was  pining  away,  and  feared  I  might  die 
on  their  hands  ;  and  they  told  me  that  they  were 
my  friends,  and  bade  me  tell  them  the  whole 
truth,  and  they  would  never  tell  Mr.  C.  about 
it  if  I  did.  They  feared  something  was  wrong, 
and  they  could  endure  the  suspense  no  longer. 
They  told  me  to  tell  them  the  whole  story,  and 
they  would  let  me  go  home  to  my  mother. 

Thus  encouraged,  I  told  them  my  piteous 
tale,  and  they  sobbed  and  wept  while  I  related 
my  sufferings  at  the  hands  of  my  guardian. 

The  next  day  they  wrote  to  Mr.  C.  that  they 
could  not  in  conscience  keep  me  any  longer 
under  the  circumstances.  They  feared  I  was 
going  into  a  decline.  I  cried  almost  day  and 
night,  would  eat  nothing  and  could  sleep  but 
little,  and  cried,  "Mother  !  Mother  !"  almost  all 

27 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

the  while.  And  as  Mrs.  S.  was  a  very  sensi- 
tive woman,  it  so  affected  her  nervous  system 
that  they  were  obliged  to  send  me  away. 

The  next  day  they  took  me  to  the  mail- wagon, 
and  told  Mr.  R.,  the  driver,  to  carry  me  to  my 
mother.  I  rode  on  with  a  light  heart,  for  I 
thought  my  troubles  were  near  an  end.  Whei 
we  reached  the  bridge  which  crossed  the  rivei 
on  the  other  side ,  two  miles  below  my  mother's 
house,  where  I  must  leave  the  carriage  to  go 
home,  I  began  to  beg  him  to  let  me  out.  He 
said, 

"No,  I  have  orders  from  Mr.  C.  not  to  let 
you  go  to  your  mother's,  but  bring  you  directly 
to  his  house." 

I  begged  him  to  let  me  go  and  see  my  mother. 
He  refused.  I  said, 

"I  will  go  up  to  Mr.  C.'s  to-morrow,  if  you 
will  let  me  go  home  to-night  and  see  my 
mother." 

"No,"  said  he,  "I  am  afraid  to  trust  you." 

I  kept  begging  and  pleading  with  him  to 
allow  me  to  get  out  and  go  and  see  mother,  but 
in  vain  ;  he  kept  driving  along. 

At  length  the  passengers  became  interested, 
and  began  to  inquire  into  the  case.  They 
stopped  the  stage,  and  told  the  driver  they 
wanted  to  Know  all  about  this  matter. 

28 


The  Fatherless  Girl. 

I  then  told  them  my  story ; — how  I  had  been 
taken  from  my  mother,  and  whipped,  and 
abused,  and  how  much  I  wanted  to  see  her,  and 
that  Mr.  S.'s  folks  told  the  driver  to  take  me 
home  to  my  mother,  and  I  desired  to  go  there, 
and  did  not  wish  to  return  to  my  guardian's. 

The  women  wept  to  hear  my  story ;  the  men 
were  enraged ;  and  all  the  passengers  took  my 
part.  The  driver  told  them  that  my  guardian 
had  said  that  I  would  lie,  and  they  ought  not 
to  take  any  notice  of  what  I  said.  But  the 
men  in  the  stage  insisted  that  it  was  perfectly 
right  that  I  should  be  permitted  to  go  and  see 
my  mother,  and  I  should  go;  and  that  it  was 
cruel  to  think  of  taking  me  away  from  her  in 
such  a  way. 

The  driver,  however,  seemed  determined  to 
cross  over  the  bridge  which  spanned  the  rocky 
chasm,  through  which  the  river  rushed  like  a 
torrent ;  but  the  men  in  the  carriage  were  de- 
termined, and  said, 

"If  you  don't  let  that  child  go  to  her  mother 
we  will  tip  you  over  into  the  river  !" 

He  saw  that  he  was  in  danger,  and  yielded: 
and  said  that  I  might  get  out,  but  could  not 
have  my  clothes.  I  cared  little  for  that,  but 
got  out  of  the  carriage,  and  ran  with  all  my 
might  for  home.  How  my  side  ached  before  I 

29 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

got   there  !     But  I  ran,  I  think,  every  step  of 
the  whole  two  miles  to  my  mother's  house. 

Mother  was  weaving  in  the  chamber,  but  1 
ran  up  stairs  with  a  light  step  and  a  joyful  heart, 
not  thinking  of  my  weariness,  in  my  longing 
for  her  loving  welcome. 

' '  Well,  whose  little  girl  is  this  ?"asked  my  moth- 
er, as  she  plied  her  shuttle,  little  thinking  that 
the  pale  child  before  her  was  the  rosy-cheeked 
daughter  that  left  her  three  months  before. 

"Mother  !"  said  I,  "don't  you  know  me?" 

"Whose  little  girl  is  it?"  said  she. 

"Why,  mother,"  said  I,  "it  is  me!"  She 
saw  the  old  familiar  smile  break  over  my 
wan  face  and  springing  from  her  loom,  ex- 
claimed, "O  my  God,  is  this  my  child?" 

"Yes,"  said  I,  "it  is  me,  mother." 

I  shall  not  soon  forget  that  meeting,  so 
joyful  to  me,  and  so  sad  to  my  poor  mother. 
I  told  my  story  quickly,  and  though  /  had 
no  thought  of  crying  then,  she  wept  as  if 
her  heart  would  break.  And  then  she  took  me 
to  the  village  the  next  day  and  showed  the 
Judge  the  marks  of  my  guardian's  cruelty  and 
abuse.  He  questioned  me,  and  after  listening 
to  my  story  seemed  much  incensed,  and  said, 

"That   man   shall   suffer." 

My  mother  carried  me  home,  a  poor,  emacia- 

30 


The  Fatherless  Girl. 

ted  child.  My  health  was  feeble,  and  my  clus 
tering  curls  had  been  cut  off  during  my  absence  ; 
I  had  lost  many  pounds  of  flesh,  and  our  near 
neighbors  did  not  recognize  me  when  they  saw 
me.  A  few  days  after,  Mr.  C.  rode  down  and 
hung  my  bundle  of  clothes  on  a  stake  in  the 
door-yard  fence.  He  did  not  stop  to  face  my 
mother,  but  as  he  saw  me  playing  in  the  front 
door-yard,  he  said,  "Oh  !  you  naughty  girl !" 

I  made  no  reply,  but  thought  to  myself, 
"Well,  you  haven't  got  me,  and  I  am  glad 
of  that ;" — and  he  rode  away. 

At  the  next  court  my  guardian  was  forced 
to  appear.  His  two  youngest  children  who  had 
persecuted  me  tried  to  testify  in  his  favor.  His 
wife  did  not  come  ;  but  his  eldest  daughter,  who 
pitied  me  so  much,  and  who  stood  and  counted 
the  cruel  blows,  had  to  come  into  court  and  tell 
the  story  as  it  was,  and  her  statement  and  mine 
agreed.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  were  also  called,  with 
Mr.  R.,  the  mail-carrier,  and  one  of  the  pas- 
sengers who  was  in  the  carriage  with  me.  The 
judge  was  terribly  indignant  with  Mr.  C. 

"You  reprobate  scoundrel,"  said  he,  "to 
treat  a  poor,  fatherless  child  in  such  a  way ; 
hanging  is  too  good  for  you." 

Mr.  C.  was  turned  out  of  his  guardianship, 
was  made  to  refund  al]  the  money  he  had  charged 
31 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

against  me,  and  would  have  had  to  pay  a  heavy 
sum  besides  had  not  my  mother  told  them  that 
she  only  wanted  her  own  again.,  and  had  no  de- 
sire to  anticipate  the  work  of  Him  who  is  "  a 
father  to  the  fatherless,  and  a  judge  of  widows 
in  his  holy  habitation,"  and  who  hath  said, 
"Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay." 

The  affair,  however,  was  ruinous  to  the  man. 
He  was  disgraced  in  society,  and  excluded  from 
the  church,  and,  though  for  a  while  he  kept  up 
a  semblance  of  piety,  yet  his  true  character  was 
well  understood,  and  the  last  I  heard  of  him  he 

as  said  to  be  a  wretched  inebriate. 

What  his  motives  were  in  his  treatment  of 
me  I  cannot  decide.  Whether,  as  some  sup- 
posed, he  coveted  the  few  dollars  which  was 
my  portion  of  my  father's  estate,  or  whether, 
enraged  by  my  persistent  efforts  to  get  home 
he  simply  gave  wray  to  an  ungoverned  temper, 
I  cannot  say ;  I  bear  no  ill  will  to  him  or  his, 
and  only  hope  that  he  may  be  found  at  last 
among  the  pardoned  and  the  saved. 

More  than  thirty  years  have  passed  since 
these  things  occurred.  My  poor  old  mother 
has  found  rest  in  the  tomb ;  Mr.  C.  is  also  dead, 
and  few  of  the  actors  in  those  scenes  remain 
upon  the  earth. 

I  still  live,  and  to  this  day  bear  about  in  my 

32 


The  Fatherless   Girl. 

body  the  marks  of  that  cruel  scourging  which  1 
then  received,  and  my  memory  still  keeps  the 
vivid  record  of  those  scenes  of  childish  grief. 

But  though  the  trial  seemed  exceedingly  bit- 
ter when  it  occurred,  yet  there  was  no  doubt  a 
"need  be"  for  it  all.  And  when  in  my  matur- 
er  years  I  have  trodden  the  lanes  and  alleys 
where  the  poor  abide,  and  have  looked  upon 
the  sufferings  of  the  widows  and  the  fatherless, 
and  when  traversing  the  Southern  States,  alle- 
viating the  miseries  that  war  had  caused,  and 
laboring  among  the  orphaned  and  afflicted 
there,  in  their  hunger,  cold,  and  nakedness,  and 
tears , — though  others,  perhaps,  might  look  care- 
lessly on, — I  could  not  turn  away  my  ear  from 
the  cry  of  \vant,  nor  forget  that  I  too  had  once 
been  a  fatherless  and  suffering  child. 

And  at  this  late  day  I  give  this  simple  story 
to  the  world,  not  to  revenge  myself  for  cruel 
wrongs,  but  to  excite  in  some  heart  a  feeling  of 
pity  for  the  fatherless  around,  who  may  be  suf- 
fering now  even  as  I  suffered  then,  and  have 
none  to  plead  their  cause,  or  grant  them  aid 
and  consolation. 

God  grant  that  this  story  may  be  the  means 
of  shedding  a  ray  of  comfort  on  the  sad  path  of 
some  other  poor  fatherless  girl ! 

B  33 


THE  STORY  OF  AN  APRON. 


When  I  was  about  thirteen  years  old,  I  went 
to  live  in  the  family  of  a  distant  relative,  to 
assist  in  doing  the  work  about  the  house.  The 
man  was  well-to-do  in  this  world,  but  wicked 
and  profane,  and  his  interest  was  in  anything 
rather  than  the  religious  training  of  children. 
The  work  was  hard,  and  the  prevailing  irrever- 
ence and  the  profanity  was  harder  still  to  bear  ; 
but  I  was  needed  there,  and  so  endeavored  to 
fulfill  my  appointed  duties  faithfully. 

One  Lord's  day  morning,  I  heard  that  there 
was  to  be  a  religious  meeting  some  three  or  four 
miles  away,  and  my  heart  was  set  upon  attend- 
ing it.  But  how  could  I  go  ?  Would  they  give 
their  consent  ?  I  feared  not,  as  they  might  think 
it  too  far  for  me  to  walk,  and  their  horses  would 
be  too  tired  to  be  driven  such  a  distance.  What 
could  I  do  ?  I  had  not  yet  learned  the  way  of 
salvation,  and  knew  not  how  to  trust  in  God  as 
in  after  years  ;  yet  I  was  religiously  inclined, 
and  I  believe  the  sweet  Spirit  of  Christ  was 
already  at  work  upon  my  heart,  and  its  still 
34 


The  Story  of  an  Apron. 

small  voice  seemed  to  whisper,  "All  things, 
whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  in  prayer,  believing, 
ye  shall  receive."  Matt.  xxi.  22. 

I  had  from  childhood  been  taught  to  pray, 
and  following  the  convictions  of  my  heart,  I  left 
the  house  without  saying  anything  to  any  one, 
and  ran  up  a  little  path  which  led  me  into  a  se- 
cluded spot  upon  the  mountain  side,  where  there 
was  a  rock  which  seemed  to  be  made  on  purpose 
for  me,  and  where  I  often  used  to  go  and  pray. 
The  man  with  whom  I  lived,  mistrusting  my 
object,  followed  stealthily  up  the  mountain,  and 
hid  on  the  other  side  of  the  rock  to  listen  to 
what  I  had  to  say.  I  opened  my  dear  little 
Bible  and  read,  "For  if  ye  live  after  the  flesh  ye 
shall  die,  but  if  ye  through  the  Spirit  do  mortify 
the  deeds  of  the  body,  ye  shall  live.  For  as 
many  as  are  led  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  they  are 
the  sons  of  God."  Rom.  viii.  13,  14.  I  was 
ignorant  of  the  Scriptures ,  but  I  firmly  believed 
that  this  passage  was  put  there  for  me,  and  that 
I  had  some  cross  to  take  up,  and  though  I  knew 
not  what  it  could  be,  yet  I  thought  I  must  do 
something  that  would  "mortify"  me,  and  I 
inquired,  What  can  I  do  to  "mortify  the  deeds 
of  the  body"  ?  I  was  young,  and  had  no  mother 
near  to  advise  me,  nor  any  Christian  friend  to 
whom  I  could  go  for  instruction.  I  was  entirely 
35 


The  Story  of  an  Apron. 

alone,  as  far  as  religious  matters  were  con- 
cerned, and  so  I  asked  God  to  show  me  what 
I  could  do  to  "mortify  the  deeds  of  the  body." 
I  wanted  to  attend  the  meeting  that  day,  and 
desired  that  the  Lord  would  influence  my  rela- 
tives to  let  me  go  ;  and  though  the  distance  was 
so  great  that  I  was  fearful  I  could  not  gain  their 
consent,  yet  I  thought  I  would  tell  the  Lord 
about  it,  and  he  might  possibly  open  a  way  for 
me  to  go. 

Then  the  question  arose  again ,  How  could  I 
"mortify  the  deeds  of  the  body  "  ?  The  passage 
was  a  mystery  to  me  ;  I  did  not  understand  it. 
But  after  a  little  I  thought  I  had  found  the  key. 
My  mother  had  made  for  me  a  long  calico  apron, 
which  came  down  to  my  feet,  to  wear  when 
washing  dishes,  and  to  do  house-work  in.  I 
always  hated  that  apron ;  it  was  so  much  longer 
than  my  dress,  and  of  a  very  homely  color,  and 
it  always  mortified  me  to  wear  it.  It  almost 
made  me  cry  every  time  I  put  it  on.  There 
was  nothing  in  the  world  that  I  disliked  as  I 
did  that  apron,  and  I  concluded  that  this  was 
my  cross,  and  that  there  was  nothing  I  could 
do  to  "mortify  the  deeds  of  the  body"  like 
putting  on  that  apron,  and  wearing  it  to  meet- 
ing! Like  many  another  devotee  who  has 
thought  to  gain  the  favor  of  God  by  doing  some 

36 


The  Story  of  an  Apron. 

disagreeable  work,  or  suffering  severe  penance 
I  felt  that  this  was  my  way  of  obtaining  his 
blessing ;  and  as  I  felt  great  need  of  help,  I  fell 
upon  my  knees  and  asked  the  Lord  to  put  it 
into  the  hearts  of  my  relatives  to  permit  me  to 
go  to  the  meeting,  and  if  they  consented  I  would 
wear  my  long  apron.  After  I  had  done  pray- 
ing about  it,  on  rising,  who  should  I  see  but  the 
man  with  whom  I  lived,  who  had  been  concealed 
over  the  other  side  of  the  rock,  and  who  having 
heard  all  that  I  had  been  saying,  came  out  from 
his  hiding-place,  and  started  for  the  house, 
shouting  and  laughing  at  my  foolishness.  Of 
course  I  knew  what  to  expect,  and  went  down 
the  hill  with  a  trembling  heart,  wondering  if 
they  would  let  me  go,  and  thinking  if  they  did 
I  must  be  true  to  my  promise,  and  wear  the 
apron ! 

When  I  reached  the  house,  my  relative  began 
to  laugh  at  me,  and  make  fun  of  my  prayers. 
I  said  nothing,  but  finally  asked  him* if  I  could 
go  to  the  meeting.  He  laughed,  and  said, 

"Yes,  if  you  will  'mortify  the  deeds  of  the 
body.'" 

So  I  prepared  myself,  and  secreting  the  long 
apron  under  my  shawl,  started  for  meeting. 
There  was  a  small  river  which  I  had  to  cross, 
either  by  wading  or  going  over  in  a  boat.  I 

37 


The  Story  of  an  Apron. 

was  somewhat  afraid,  as  the  water  was  quite 
high,  but  I  finally  got  into  a  boat, — the  same  old 
boat  which  had  once  carried  me  down  stream 
when  a  little  child, — and  rowed  across.  When 
over  the  river  I  knelt  again  in  prayer  to  thank 
the  Lord  that  I  was  so  far  safely  on  my  journey, 
and  I  then  put  on  the  long  apron.  I  thought 
at  first  of  going  directly  by  the  road  to  the 
meeting,  but  afterwards  concluded  I  would  not, 
for  I  wore  a  short  dress,  and  over  this  the  apron, 
which  came  down  to  my  feet ;  and  to  go  along 
the  public  road  in  this  costume  was  a  little  too 
much  for  my  courage  ;  so  I  went  around  through 
the  fields,  dodging  among  the  trees  and  woods 
and  stumps  and  fences,  some  of  the  time  coming 
out  into  the  highway,  and  then  going  back  into 
the  pastures  and  over  the  hills  to  avoid  passing 
any  houses  or  meeting  any  one  on  the  road. 

At  length  I  came  within  sight  of  the  school- 
house  where  the  meeting  was  held,  and  I  saw 
that  the  house  was  crowded  with  people,  out- 
side and  in,  old  and  young,  most  of  whom  were 
my  acquaintances.  As  they  'looked  out  from 
the  corner  of  the  school-house  and  saw  me  com- 
ing in  my  long  apron,  I  could  see  them  laugh- 
ing and  pointing  at  me,  and  I  was  too  sensitive 
to  face  their  mirth  ;  and  with  a  trembling  heart 
I  turned  back  to  a  convenient  place,  and  quickly 

38 


"  THEY  SAW  ME  COMING  IN  MY  LONG  APRON." 


fuye  38. 


The  Story  of  an  Apron. 

removed  the  troublesome  apron,  hiding  it  under 
the  fence,  wishing  my  mother  had  never  made 
it,  and  feeling  sorry  that  I  had  ever  promised 
the  Lord  to  wear  it.  I  started  on  again,  and 
came  to  a  little  stream  of  water  which  lay 
between  me  and  the  school-house,  over  which 
a  beam  was  thrown  for  foot-passengers  to  cross. 
As  I  was  crossing  the  stream  I  looked  down  into 
the  water,  and  thought  of  Christ  and  his  words 
commanding  us  to  "repent  and  be  baptized," 
and  of  the  baptism  with  which  he  had  been  bap- 
tized for  us,  and  I  thought  within  myself,  Since 
Christ  has  done  so  much  for  me,  could  I  not  be 
willing  to  do  so  little  a  thing  as  I  thought  I  was 
called  to  do  for  him?  These  words  also  came 
to  my  mind,  "Whosoever,  therefore,  shall  be 
ashamed  of  me  and  my  words  in  this  adulterous 
and  sinful  generation,  of  him  also  shall  the  Son 
of  Man  be  ashamed,  when  he  cometh  in  the 
glory  of  his  Father  with  the  holy  angels." 
Mark  viii.  38.  My  heart  was  filled  with  sad- 
ness. How  wretched  I  was  !  I  had  never 
openly  professed  my  faith  in  Christ,  nor  had  I 
learned  the  way  of  peace,  but  I  felt  a  love  for 
the  Lord  and  a  desire  to  do  his  will,  and  the 
Lord  pitied  me  in  my  ignorance  and  my  hon- 
esty of  purpose  and  desire. 

I  turned  back  again  to  the  place  where  the 

39 


The  Story  of  an  Apron. 

apron  was  hidden,  and  knelt  upon  it  to  seek  help 
from  the  Lord,  and  while  I  was  praying  the  Lord 
seemed  very  near  to  strengthen  and  encourage 
me.  It  seemed  as  if  the  angels  of  the  Lord 
were  round  about  me,  and  I  received  such  joy 
and  courage  from  God  that  I  felt  I  could  do 
anything  for  Christ,  no  matter  what  it  might 
be.  So  I  put  on  my  apron  which  I  had  taken 
off,  and  started  again  for  the  meeting.  As  I 
approached  the  school-house  the  people  began 
to  snicker  and  laugh.  With  a  firm  step  and  a 
determined  will  I  pressed  my  way  through  the 
crowd  of  boys  and  girls  who  were  holding  their 
mouths  to  keep  from  laughing  and  disturbing 
the  meeting.  I  thought  I  would  take  a  back 
seat,  but  the  school-house  was  filled,  and  the 
only  seat  I  could  find  was  in  front,  where  the 
little  folks  usually  sat,  and  where  I  was  exposed 
to  the  gaze  of  all  the  people.  My  presence  and 
strange  dress  of  course  created  quite  a  sensation 
among  both  old  and  young  in  the  house,  and  at 
short  intervals  some  of  the  younger  folks  out- 
side would  put  their  heads  inside  the  door,  and 
then  draw  back  snickering  and  laughing ;  and  I 
well  knew  what  it  was  for.  The  mirth  produced 
was  of  course  annoying  to  the  preacher,  who 
was  an  old,  gray-haired  gentleman,  and  who 
seemed  to  be  much  broken  down  and  discour- 

40 


The  Story  of  an  Apron. 

.aged.  He  said  he  had  been  there  three  weeks 
laboring  with  the  people,  and  not  a  soul  had 
been  converted,  and  he  had  concluded  that  it 
was  of  little  use  to  do  any  more  in  that  place, 
and  it  was  probably  the  last  time  they  would 
ever  hear  his  voice,  as  that  was  the  closing 
meeting.  He  soon  concluded  his  remarks,  and 
sat  down,  giving  others  opportunity  to  follow 
him  in  testimony  or  exhortation  as  the  Spirit 
should  give  them  utterance. 

The  sadness  and  discouragement  of  the  old 
preacher  touched  my  heart,  and  after  he  con- 
cluded I  arose,  and  in  my  childish  way  told  my 
simple  story  about  my  prayer  by  the  rock  and 
about  the  long  apron,  and  the  reason  why  I  put 
it  on,  that  I  might  "mortify  the  deeds  of  the 
body" — how  my  courage  failed,  and  I  had  taken 
it  off;  and  how  I  had  prayed  to  God  for  strength 
to  bear  the  scoffs  and  taunts  of  my  acquaintances, 
and  had  determined  to  do  right  and  serve  the 
Lord,  and  not  to  be  ashamed  of  his  words, 
believing  that  the  Lord  would  take  care  of  me, 
and  how  he  had  blessed,  strengthened,  and 
comforted  me,  in  my  determination  to  do  his 
will.  The  effect  of  the  simple  story  was  remark- 
able. The  power  of  the  Spirit  of  God  seemed 
to  rest  upon  the  congregation.  Both  old  and 
young  were  bathed  in  tears.  The  gray-headed 

41 


The  Story  of  an  Apron. 

minister  buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  wept 
aloud,  and  rising,  said,  "This  little  child  has 
condemned  us  all.  She  has  been  willing  to 
tako  up  her  cross,  and  has  done  it  with  such 
courage  it  ought  to  be  a  lesson  for  us  all."  The 
congregation  were  greatly  affected  ;  those  out- 
side crowded  to  the  doors  and  the  windows  to 
look  in,  and  before  the  old  minister  had  con- 
cluded every  eye  seemed  filled  with  tears  ;  there 
was  sobbing  all  over  the  house,  and  those  who 
had  been  making  sport  of  the  long  apron  were 
weeping  with  the  rest.  Curiosity,  mirth,  and 
laughter  had  changed  to  solemn  thoughtfulness. 
One  after  another  broke  down  in  penitence  and 
confessed  their  faults  ;  sinners  voluntarily  arose 
to  ask  the  people  of  God  to  pray  for  them,  con- 
fessing with  sorrow  their  wickedness  and  their 
abuse  of  the  Lord's  goodness  and  the  precious 
privileges  they  had  enjoyed ;  and  the  most 
powerful  revival  ever  known  in  that  neighbor- 
hood commenced  with  that  meeting. 

The  prophet  once  reproved  those  who  despised 
the  day  of  small  things.  God's  ways  are  not  as 
our  ways  ;  he  knows  the  hearts  of  all  men,  and 
can  use  the  feeblest  instruments  to  accomplish 
his  work.  Small  things  maybe  used  by  him  to 
accomplish  great  results,  and  matters  which  may 
seem  too  trivial  or  absurd  for  our  notice  may 
42 


The  Story  of  an  Apron. 

yet  be  blessed  of  God  and  result  in  great  good. 

I  went  home  a  happier  child  ;  and  I  think  the 
Lord  then  and  there  called  me  to  his  service. 
This  was  my  first  effort  in  public  confession  of 
Christ  before  men ;  and  though  I  was  young, 
and  did  not  understand  the  ways  of  the  Lord, 
nor  know  how  I  could  follow  out  the  teachings 
of  Scripture,  yet  the  Lord  understood  my 
motives,  and  I  was  blessed,  and  taught  that  the 
Lord  uses  the  weak  things  of  this  world  to  con- 
found the  wisdom  of  the  wise.  I  have  since 
seen  many  instances  where  the  Lord  has  blessed 
the  ignorant  and  lowly  on  account  of  their  hum- 
bleness and  submission,  rather  than  those  whose 
ways  have  been  more  in  accordance  with  the 
thoughts  and  desires  of  men. 

The  long  apron  passed  from  sight  years  ago, 
and  is  probably  forgotten  by  all  except  the  one 
who  wore  it,  but  the  power  that  filled  and 
encouraged  the  heart  of  the  despondent  old 
preacher,  and  which  so  strangely  moved  the 
feelings  of  the  people  and  changed  the  whole 
spirit  of  the  meeting,  might  be  traced  back,  not 
to  the  long  apron,  which  had  no  more  value 
than  the  long  robes  and  sacerdotal  trappings 
with  which  some  professing  Christians  now 
array  themselves,  but  to  the  public  confession 
of  Christ  by  a  young  disciple,  and  to  her  broken, 
43 


The  Story  of  an  Apron. 

child-like  prayer  by  the  old  rock  on  the  hillside 
in  Vermont ;  yea,  farther  still  than  that,  to  the 
presence  of  the  Comforter  which  is  sent  into  the 
world  to  abide  forever,  not  only  to  comfort  the 
children  of  the  Lord,  but  also  to  convince  the 
world  of  sin,  of  righteousness,  and  of  judgment. 

I  am  convinced  that  the  Spirit  of  God  often 
makes  impressions  on  the  minds  of  little  chil- 
dren as  well  as  older  persons,  and  that  parents 
and  grown  people  think  too  little  of  these  things. 
God  may  call  little  ones  to  do  errands  for  him, 
and  if  Christian  parents  had  more  confidence  in 
the  Lord,  and  would  teach  their  children  to 
watch  the  leadings  of  his  Spirit,  and  believe  in 
his  providential  guidings,  they  would  be  better 
prepared  to  serve  their  Master,  and  endure  the 
temptations  which  surround  them. 

Little  Samuel  heard  the  call  of  God,  and 
gave  heed  to  his  command,  and  so  other  chil- 
dren may  be  called  to  do  something  in  the 
Lord's  cause,  and  if  any  of  my  readers  are 
tempted  to  disobey  the  divine  call,  let  them 
bow  the  knee  and  ask  the  help  which  God  alone 
can  give,  and  so  find  strength  to  bear  each 
cross  and  do  the  work  which  God  requires. 

Oh,  let  Him  guide  your  feet  aright, 

And  he  will  keep  you  in  his  fear; 
Trust  Him,  and  serve  Him  with  your  might, 

And  you  shall  find  Him  ever  near. 

44 


A  BLESSED   CHILD. 


There  are  no  words  of  scripture  more  pre- 
cious to  me  than  those  which  speak  of  little 
children  as  the  objects  of  the  blessed  Saviour's 
love  and  care.  Nor  can  I  understand  how  any 
follower  of  the  gentle-hearted  Jesus  can  fail  to 
feel  a  strong  solicitude  for  the  welfare  and  sal- 
vation of  those  who  are  such  special  subjects  of 
divine  affection. 

Ever  since  God  was  pleased  to  call  me  by 
his  grace,  when  young  in  years,  and  make  me 
*'as  a  little  child"  indeed,  I  have  felt  a  deep  in- 
terest in  his  little  ones  ;  and  with  each  confes- 
sion of  my  love  to  Christ  has  come  back  to  me 
the  answering  word,  "Feed  my  lambs."  And 
so  I  have  been  much  among  children,  and  have 
seen  many  of  them  brought  to  Christ,  and  wit- 
nessed many  instances  of  sincere  piety  among 
them.  But  among  all  the  little  ones  I  have  ever 
met,  one  blessed  child  shines  forth  pre-eminent 
ns  a  subject  of  special  grace,  and  an  instru- 
ment of  peculiar  mercy  to  those  around  her. 

In  the  year  1841,  when  I  was  but  a  little  girl 


A  Blessed  Child. 

amoug  the  green  hills  of  my  native  Vermont,  I 
attended  a  meeting  where  a  few  disciples  were 
gathered  in  a  small  and  humble  room.  Among 
them  I  noticed  a  kindly,  intelligent  looking  lady, 
by  whose  side  sat  a  little  girl  about  three 
years  old ;  a  rosy,  blue-eyed,  curly-headed 
little  one,  whose  sedate  and  thoughtful  look 
attracted  my  attention.  Desiring  to  be  near  her, 
girl-like,  I  edged  along  till  I  found  myself  seat- 
ed by  her  side,  and  I  got  my  arm  around  the 
shy  little  creature,  and  looked  into  her  modest, 
loving  face. 

The  meeting  soon  commenced,  and  the  pro- 
ceedings were  not  the  most  hopeful.  The  oc- 
casion was  a  painful  one.  A  brother  in  the 
church  had  been  overtaken  in  a  fault ; — in  an 
evil  hour  he  had  become  intoxicated,  and  had 
fallen  into  sin  and  brought  disgrace  upon  him- 
self, his  family,  and  the  church  of  which  he  was 
a  member ;  and  this  meeting  had  been  called  to 
take  action  in  his  case. 

After  the  usual  preliminary  exercises,  the 
business  was  broached  by  the  leader,  who,  in 
his  remarks,  laid  the  matter  before  the  meeting, 
and  spoke  with  much  severity  of  the  offending 
one  ;  and  when  he  had  concluded,  the  offender 
being  called  upon  for  explanations,  acknowl- 
edged the  truthfulness  of  the  charges,  but  in  a 
46 


A  Blessed  Child. 

harsh  and  scornful  spirit  resented  the  severity 
of  the  leader,  and  expressed  a  desire  to  be  freed 
from  all  connection  with  such  a  church  as  that. 

He  sat  down,  and  the  leader  arose  and  again 
commented  upon  his  case  with  still  greater  sever- 
ity, and  suggested  his  immediate  expulsion. 

This  caused  unpleasant  feelings  in  the  meet- 
ing, and  many  were  grieved  with  the  injudi- 
cious conduct  of  the  leader,  as  well  as  with  the 
sin  of  the  offender.  Some  of  the  members 
wept  to  see  the  bitter  spirit  manifested  by  the 
leader ;  some  pitied  the  offender  and  desired 
to  bear  with  him  longer ;  some  loved  him  and 
were  unwilling  to  cut  him  off  from  their  fellow- 
ship. Among  others,  I  observed  that  the 
lady  I  had  noticed  was  in  tears.  The  meet- 
ing was  divided,  some  suggested  one  course 
and  some  another,  and  considerable  contention 
arose ;  and  no  one  seemed  to  have  the  skill 
and  wisdom  needed  to  avert  a  serious  rupture 
in  the  church.  One  after  another  spoke,  but 
with  no  good  result,  and  the  prospect  looked 
quite  discouraging. 

In  the  midst  of  the  trouble  and  sorrow  I 
overheard  this  little  girl  whispering  to  her 
mother,  and  saying,  "Mother,  I  want  to 
speak."  Her  mother  smiled  on  her  little 
daughter,  and  made  no  reply.  Shortly  after 


A  Blessed  Child. 

she  whispered  again,  "Mother,  /  want  to 
speak ;"  and  her  mother,  to  quiet  her  entreat- 
ies, said,  "Well,  wait  till  that  man  gets 
through  speaking."  This  pacified  the  little 
child,  who  considered  that  her  request  was 
granted  ;  and  the  moment  the  man  closed  his 
remarks  she  slipped  down  from  her  seat,  and 
in  an  instant  was  in  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
and  looking  around  upon  the  agitated  and  con- 
tending company  she  lifted  her  eyes  upward, 
while  her  bosom  heaved  with  sighs,  and  the 
tears  ran  down  her  flushed  countenance,  and  in 
a  timid  voice  broken  by  sobs  of  grief,  she  said  : 

"LET    BROTHERLY    LOVE    CONTINUE," 

and   hastened   back  to   her  seat   again. 

Mighty  as  the  "Peace,  be  still,"  which  calmed 
the  stormy  waters  of  Genesarst,  were  these 
Avords  of  strength  ordained  by  the  Holy  Ghost 
to  be  uttered  by  that  blessed  child.  The  storm 
was  hushed  and  there  was  a  great  calm.  Anger 
was  gone  ;  bitterness  was  quelled.  Every  eye 
gushed  out  with  tears.  The  poor  offending 
brother  fell  at  the  feet  of  him  who  had  so  bit- 
terly reproved  him,  and  with  tears  of  penitence 
streaming  down  his  cheeks,  desired  his  brethren 
to  forgive  him  once  more,  and  the  returning 
prodigal  was  received  again  with  open  arms ; 

48 


A.  Blessed  Child. 

peace  was  restored  to  the  church  ;  brotherly  love 
did  continue  ;  and  instead  of  a  torn,  dissenting, 
divided,  and  ruined  people,  the  world  beheld 
the  spectacle  of  a  united  band  of  Christian 
brethren  who  parted  in  peace,  and  fellowship, 
and  love,  praising  God  that  he  had  caused  a 
little  child  to  lead  them,  and  had  preached  to 
them  from  the  lips  of  that  blessed  babe  such 
a  sermon  on  brotherly  love  as  they  had  never 
heard  before. 

And  in  their  union  there  was  strength  ;  and 
from  that  hour  their  steadfast  and  united  testi- 
mony was  blessed  of  God  to  the  awakening  of 
many  to  a  sense  of  danger  and  of  duty,  and 
much  people  were  added  to  the  Lord. 

Two  years  from  the  time  when  the  scene 
which  has  been  described  transpired,  I  saw  my 
little  friend  once  more.  I  had  left  my  home 
and  gone  forth,  a  fatherless  girl,  to  meet  the 
changeful  scenes  of  earthly  life,  and  my  lot  was 
cast  in  th«  thrivin  town 


During  my  sojourn  there  an  adjacent  village 
was  favored  with  rich  displays  of  God's  convert- 
ing mercy,  and  many  souls  were  led  to  Christ, 
while  others  were  awakened  from  their  slumbers, 
and  more  fully  instructed  in  the  gospel  of  the 
kingdom  of  God. 

One  Sunday  noon  I  stood  among  a  crowd  that 

49 


A  13 less ed  Child. 

gathered  by  the  margin  of  a  mountain  stream, 
which  leaped,  and  dashed,  and  eddied  on  its  way 
amid  the  rocks  that  filled  its  bed  and  lined  its 
channel,  and  waited  there,  to  behold  the  new 
converts  publicly  confess  their  faith  in  the  death 
and  resurrection  of  the  Divine  Redeemer,  as 
shadowed  forth  in  the  expressive  symbol  of 
an  holy  baptism. 

The  solemn  song  of  praise  arose  above  the 
murmuring  of  the  stream,  and  swelled  and  float- 
ed on  the  silent  air  ;  the  voice  of  prayer  went  up 
to  crave  the  blessing  of  Him  who  declared  him- 
self well  pleased  in  Jesus,  his  beloved  Son, 
when  he  was  baptized  of  Johil  in  Jordan  :  and 
then  the  minister  led  the  converts,  one  by  one, 
down  into  those  dark  and  chilling  waters, — 
a  fit  emblem  of  death's  darker  billows  beneath 
which  Jesus  bowed  his  head,  and  beneath  which 
human  pride  and  strength  and  hope  must  sink, 
and  which  Christ  alone  can  lead  us  safely 
through, — and  having  buried  them  there,  he 
raised  them  gently  up  and  led  them  back  again 
to  enter  upon  their  new  and  glorious  race, '  'that 
like  as  Christ  was  raised  up  from  the  dead  by 
the  glory  of  the  Father,  even  so"  they  "also 
should  walk  in  newness  of  life."  Rom.  vi.  4. 

One  after  another  had  trod  the  chilling  path- 
way and  sunk  into  the  watery  grave,  until  some 

50 


A  Blessed  Child. 

forty  persons  had  been  "buried"  with  Christ '  'by 
baptism  into  death  ;"  and  among  them  were  the 
parents  of  this  little  girl.  Her  mother  was  the 
last  one,  and  as  she  reached  the  shore,  and  the 
services  were  about  to  close,  this  little  girl,  who 
had  watched  the  solemn  scene,  and  who  knew 
'  this  was  the  last  opportunity,  reached  up  her 
childish  hands  to  the  minister,  and  with  tearful 
eyes  and  imploring  look,  said,  in  a  voice  of  deep 
emotion ,  ' '  May  n't  I  be  bairtized  ?  " 

The  minister  paused,  and  glanced  inquiringly 
at  the  parents  to  see  if  they  consented  to  her 
request ;  their  tearful  countenances  showed  that 
they  could  not  "forbid  water,"  nor  restrain  a 
little  one  Avho  sought  to  tread  the  narrow  way. 
They  consented ;  he  took  the  little  maiden  in 
his  arms,  and  walking  out  into  the  waters  of  the 
sullen  stream,  planted  her  in  the  likeness  of  the 
Saviour's  death,  and  raised  her  up  in  the  image 
of  his  resurrection ;  and  while  he  bore  her, 
shepherd-like,  as  a  lamb  upon  his  bosom,  to  the 
shore,  the  pent-up  feelings  of  her  heart  gushed 
out  in  joyous  words  of  praise,  and  clapping  her 
little  hands  in  gladness,  she  shouted,  "Glory, 
glory,  glory  to  God  !" 

Language  cannot  describe  the  effect  of  that 
thrilling  scene.  It  seemed  that  He  who  blessed 
the  little  ones  in  Palestine  was  there  to  bless 

51 


A  Blessed  Child. 

this  little  child.  Tears  flowed  from  eyes  unused 
to  weep,  and  deep  conviction  settled  on  many  a 
careless  heart ;  and  solemnly  the  gazing  crowd 
turned  from  the  river  side  and  sought  their 
homes,  to  meet  again  in  the  evening  at  the 
house  of  prayer. 

The  hour  for  the  evening  services  arrived ; 
the  .multitude  assembled  to  listen  to  the  glad 
tidings  of  the  kingdom  of  God  at  hand,  and  to 
hear  the  proclamation  of  the  acceptable  year  of 
the  Lord,  and  the  day  of  vengeance  of  our  God. 
The  discourse  of  the  servant  of  God  was  full  of 
power,  and  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  attended  the 
word.  After  the  sermon  an  opportunity  was 
afforded  for  further  testimony  and  exhortation, 
and  again  this  little  girl  who  had  been  baptized 
desired  to  speak.  Who  could  refuse  the  re- 
quest ?  Surely  none  but  the  Pharisees  who  tried 
to  hush  the  hosannas  of  the  children  of  Jeru- 
salem, when,  out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and 
sucklings,  God  perfected  praise. 

Too  small  to  be  seen  by  the  assembled  multi- 
tude, her  father  arose  and  lifted  her  up  in  his 
arms,  that  all  might  behold  her ;  and  with  a 
tremulous  voice  she  invited  sinners  to  Christ, 
and  with  outstretched  hands  entreated  them  to 
come.  So  earnest  was  her  appeal,  so  fervent  her 
prayers,  so  deep  and  wonderful  the  wisdom  of 

52 


"HE    TOOK    THE    LITTLE    MAIDEN    IN    HIS    AKMS. 


A  Blessed  Child. 

her  words,  coming  from  the  lips  of  a  child  only 
five  years  old,  that  it  pierced  the  hearts  of  sin- 
ners and  backsliders  like  a  sharp,  two-edged 
sword.  Hardened  scoffers  and  hoary-headed 
infidels  felt  the  power  of  that  wondrous  testi- 
mony, and  it  was  thought  that  three  or  four 
hundred  persons  manifested  their  desire  for  the 
prayers  of  God's  people  upon  that  night. 

I  shall  never  forget  that  little  child,  nor  the 
exhortation  which  she  gave.  It  was  her  last. 
Six  weeks  from  that  time  she  bade  adieu  to  earth 
and  loved  ones  here,  and  fell  asleep  in  Christ; 
the  grave  closed  over  her  little  form,  and  she 
waits  the  awakening  voice  of  Him  who  said, 
"Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me,  and 
forbid  them  not,  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of 
God." 

And  I  have  indited  this  truthful  record  of 
circumstances  of  which  I  Avas  an  eye-witness, 
that  I  might  magnify  the  grace  of  Jesus  Christ, 
who  loves  and  saves  the  little  ones,  and  Avho 
often  makes  them  messengers  of  his  mercy  to 
the  lost  and  perishing  around. 

And  while,  with  advancing  years,  I  have 
come  to  feel  the  untold  yearnings  of  a  mother's 
heart,  and  to  look  upon  the  precious  ones  that 
God  has  placed  beneath  my  charge,  these  recol- 
lections of  this  blessed  child  have  come  to  me 

53 


A  Blessed  Child. 

oftimes  as  cheering  proofs  of  Jesus'  love  for  the 
lambs  of  his  flock,  and  as  encouragements  to  me 
to  labor  on  through  toils  and  tears  and  trials 
and  temptations,  to  train  my  children  up  in  the 
nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord,  and  to  lead 
them,  even  in  their  earliest  days,  to  "Behold 
the  Lamb  of  God,  that  taketh  away  the  sin  of 
the  world." 

—  JL_ 

And  if  these  lines  should  meet  a  mother's 
eye,  let  me  say,  you  cannot  commence  too  early 
to  teach  your  little  ones  to  know  the  love  of 
Christ.  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning 
of  wisdom :  happy  are  they  who  learn  their 
first  lessons  in  their  mothers'  arms.  Do  not 
think  your  children  are  too  young  to  know  the 
Lord.  Children  old  enough  to  sin  are  old 
enough  to  repent ;  children  old  enough  to  do 
wrong  are  old  enough  to  be  gently  guided 
right. 

Satan  does  not  wait , — why  then  should  you  ? 
Sow  the  good  seed  before  the  enemy  has  time 
to  scatter  his  tares.  Then  shall  your  children 
gladden  your  hearts  even  in  early  days,  with 
the  beginnings  of  that  divine  life  which  shall 
grow  with  their  growth  and  strengthen  with 
their  strength,  until  they  shall  be  perfect  and 
complete  in  all  the  will  of  God.  Or  if,  per- 
chance, some  bitter  day  your  tears  fall  thick 
M 


A  Blessed  Child. 

and  fast  above  a  little  grave,  there  shall  corne 
like  balm  to  your  stricken  and  afflicted  spirit 
the  precious  memories  of  prayers  prattled  by  an 
infant's  tongue,  of  promises  lisped  by  little  lips, 
and  of  songs  sung  by  gentle  voices  that  shall 
then  be  silent  in  the  grave. 

And  all  these  fragrant  recollections  shall  be 
to  you  as  prophecies  <z>f  the  coming  of  that 
brighter  day,  when  the  long  night  of  tearful 
separations  shall  have  passed  away,  and  when 
the  children  shall  come'  again  from  the  land  of 
the  enemy,  to  the  city  of  the  redeemed,  the 
paradise  of  God. 

65 


THE  OKPHAtf  GIRL. 


It  was  about  the  year  1845,  that  I  became  a 

resident  of  the  thriving  village  of  C ,  a  place 

around  which  lingers  many  a  fragrant  recollec- 
tion of  mercies  and  blessings  bestowed  by  the 
good  hand  of  God. 

During  my  sojourn  there  the  Lord  gave  me  to 
feel  an  especial  spirit  of  labor  and  a  deep  sympa- 
thy of  heart  for  the  fallen  and  lost.  Such  was 
the  burden  of  my  soul  for  the  salvation  of  sin- 
ners, that  at  times  I  could  not  rest  day  or  night, 
and  I  was  led  to  cry  to  the  Lord  for  help, 
and  strength,  and  boldness,  that  I,  child  though 
I  was,  might  be  used  to  the  glory  of  God, 
and  the  good  of  those  around  me. 

It  pleased  the  Lord  to  hear  my  prayers,  and 
to  help  me  in  my  weakness  by  his  all-suffi- 
cient grace,  and  direct  my  footsteps  by  his 
guiding  hand.  Doors  of  usefulness  were  opened 
to  me  on  every  side,  and  I  found  plenty  of  work 
to  do  ;  for  among  the  hundreds  employed  in  the 
extensive  cotton  manufactories,  were  many 

56 


The   Orphan   Girl. 

poor,  weary,  homeless  orphan  children,  friend- 
less and  forgotten,  and  yet  needing  friends  and 
kindly  remembrances  from  day  to  day. 

As  I  studied  the  character  of  my  Divine  Pat- 
tern, I  found  that  his  work  was  among  the 
poor,  the  outcast,  and  the  dejected ;  that  he 
condescended  to  men  of  low  estate ;  and  I 
desired  to  be  a  follower  of  my  lowly  Lord. 
Here,  thought  I,  is  plenty  of  work  for  me 
among  these  forsaken  ones  ;  and  work  such  as 
the  proud  professors  of  a  worldly  religion  will 
not  undertake  to  do.  No  one  thinks  of  these 
poor  children,  especially  if  they  do  not  put 
themselves  in  the  way  of  being  noticed.  The 
great  ones  can  not  condescend  to  hunt  up  these 
poor  wanderers,  and  hence  they  are  left  to  go 
their  own  way,  as  if  no  man  cared  for  their  souls. 
This  then  was  to  be  my  work ;  a  work  which 
I, — a  fatherless  child,  who  knew  by  sad  exper- 
ience the  sufferings  of  an  orphan's  lot,  and  the 
sorrows  of  a  stranger's  heart,  and  who,  though 
far  from  friends  and  home,  had  felt  the  blessed 
power  of  Christian  sympathy  and  love, — might 
understand  how  to  engage  in,  among  those 
around  me  who  so  much  needed  this  assistance. 

Among  the  faces  which  still  linger  indelibly 
impressed  upon  my  memory,  I  recall  that  of  a 
fair  young  maiden ,  some  fifteen  or  sixteen  years 
57 


The    Orphan    Girl. 

of  age,  a  sunny,  bright-eyed,  laughing  creature, 
who  went  to  her  work  from  day  to  day  in  all  the 
guileless  happiness  of  innocence  and  youth, 
cheerful  as  a  sunbeam  amid  the  toiling  multi- 
tude around  her.  Days  and  weeks  passed  away, 
and  I  marked  in  her  the  change  so  usual  in  per- 
sons of  frail  constitution,  when  exposed  to  the 
unhealthy  air  and  dust  of  the  cotton  mills.  She 
grew  pale  and  sad,  and  sometimes  I  saw  the 
silent  tear  drop  from  her  eyes,  when  engaged 
about  her  daily  toil.  Touched  with  sympathy 
for  her  troubles,  I  sought  her  acquaintance  ;  but 
though  I  learned  that  she  was  a  lonely  orphan, 
homesick  and  weary,  and  tried  to  point  her  to 
the  heavenly  Friend  who  has  called  the  heavy 
laden  to  come  to  him  and  rest ;  yet  she  seemed 
to  shrink  back  from  confiding  her  feelings  to 
those  who  were  followers  of  Jesus,  and  as  I  did 
not  wish  to  intrude  upon  her  sorrows,  I  left  off 
conversing  with  her,  and  only  endeavored  to 
remember  her  before  the  Lord  in  prayer. 

Before  long  I  missed  her  well-remembered 
face  among  the  hurrying  crowd  of  busy  toilers 
there,  and  upon  subsequent  inquiry  I  ascer- 
tained that  she  had  been  sick  ;  her  wages,  always 
scanty,  had  left  no  surplus  for  such  an  emeiv 
gency ;  and  before  she  was  able  to  return  to 
her  work,  she  had  become  indebted  for  her 

58 


The   Orphan   Girl. 

board,  her  boarding-mistress  had  put  her  trunk 
out  of  doors,  and  turned  the  poor  girl  penniless 
into  the  street,  and  no  one  knew  what  had 
become  of  her. 

Shortly  after  this  I  heard  of  her,  elegantly 
dressed,  among  the  gay  throng  who  gathered  at 
places  of  public  resort  and  amusement,  and  my 
heart  sank  with  sad  surmises  concerning  her. 
But  I  could  only  bear  her  case  before  the  Lord, 
and  await  his  time,  and  the  direction  of  his  guid- 
ing hand,  that  I  might  do  her  good. 

Some  little  time  elapsed,  and  one  evening, 
just  at  nightfall,  while  passing  down  one  of  the 
principal  streets,  I  saw  her  standing  on  a  cor- 
ner in  close  conversation  with  an  elderly,  well- 
dressed  person,  whom  I  recognized  at  once  as 
a  wealthy  man  and  a  member  of  a  church — the 
father  of  an  interesting  family  of  grown-up  chil- 
dren— and  my  heart  sank  with  horror  as  I 
remembered  the  rumors  of  his  vileness  which 
had  reached  me,  from  those  who  had  pointed 
him  out  to  rne  as  worthy  of  the  abhorrence  of 
the  virtuous  and  the  good. 

While  I  observed  them,  they  presently  turned 
down  the  street  together.  AVilh  a  shuddering 
heart  I  followed  them,  determined  to  know  the 
worst.  Another  corner  turned,  and  a  short  walk 
led  them  to  a  disreputable  house  ;  they  entered 

59 


The    Orphan    Girl. 

the  door,  while  I  passed  unnoticed  by.  Hastily 
retracing  my  steps,  I  called  at  a  milliner's  shop, 
begged  the  privilege  of  writing  a  note,  and 
taking  it  in  my  hand,  I  walked  quickly  back  to 
the  place  which  I  had  seen  them  enter,  knocked 
at  the  door,  and  called  for  this  wretched  child. 
She  came  to  the  door.  I  told  her  I  had  called 
to  talk  and  pray  with  them,  invited  her  to  come 
and  see  me,  and  placed  in  her  hand  the  note 
which  contained  my  address,  and  appointed  an 
hour  for  her  to  meet  me  at  my  room.  She 
promised  to  come,  weeping  bitterly,  and  saying 
that  I  was  the  first  person  who  had  spoken  an 
encouraging  word  to  her. 

She  invited  me  to  enter  the  house.  I  did  so, 
for  I  feared  no  danger  when  going  on  the  errand 
of  the  Lord.  A  number  of  persons  were  present 
in  the  sitting-room,  among  them  the  man  with 
whom  she  came  there,  and  who  looked  sober, 
guilty,  and  ashamed.  I  talked  with  them ; 
some  wept;  others  spoke  lightly  of  the  matter, 
and  thought  it  very  foolish  that  one  so  young 
as  I  should  forsake  the  gay  world  to  lead  a 
religious  life.  I  asked  the  privilege  of  praying 
there  ;  it  was  granted,  and  I  knelt  among  them 
and  poured  out  the  pent-up  feelings  of  my  heart 
to  God  in  earnest  prayer  and  supplication  for 
those  poor,  fallen  ones.  The  Holy  Spirit  was 
60 


The    Orphan    Girl. 

present  to  help  my  infirmities  ;  tears  fell  from 
eyes  unused  to  weep,  and  stilled  sobs  and  sigh? 
mingled  with  suppressed  and  sneering  laughter 
around  the  room.  When  done  I  rose  from  my 
knees  and  hastily  left  the  house  in  tears. 

Time  passed,  the  hour  appointed  for  the  inter- 
view at  my  room  approached,  and  I  repaired  tc 
my  closet  and  earnestly  besought  the  blessing 
of  God  upon  this  poor,  erring  child.  A  rap 
was  soon  heard  at  my  door,  and  I  hastened  to 
admitthe  sorrowing  wanderer.  I  welcomed  her, 
and  sat  down  to  listen  to  her  tale  of  grief. 
Left  without  parents  or  friends,  with  no  rela- 
tives to  aid  or  care  for  her,  she  had  come  many 
miles  to  work  in  the  cotton  factory,  and  thus 
secure  a  living,  but  had  been  unable  to  earn 
enough  to  pay  her  expenses ;  and  having  run 
in  debt  for  her  board  to  the  amount  of  ten 
dollars,  her  boarding  mistress  had  put  her  trunk 
into  the  street  and  turned  her  out  of  doors.  She 
sat  down  on  her  trunk,  faint  and  sick  at  heart. 
It  was  night,  and 

"Alas  for  the  rarity 
Of  Christian  charity," 

she  knew  not  where  to  go  for  shelter,  counsel, 
or  assistance.  Young  and  inexperienced,  pen- 
niless and  alone,  she  knew  not  what  course  to 
pursue.  And  there  in  the  darkness  and  the 
bitterness  of  her  soul,  this  man,  of  all  the  men 

61 


The    Orphan    Girl. 

that  thronged  those  streets,  had  met  her  with 
words  of  sympathy  and  proffers  of  friendship — 
such  friendship! — and  she  in  her  trouble  was 
glad  to  accept  the  assistance  of  any  one.  He 
guided  her  to  this  house ;  for  when  all  other 
houses  are  closed  against  a  poor,  homeless  girl, 
this  house  stands  open,  and  though  every  kindly 
heart  is  sealed  up,  and  every  holy  home  is  locked 
and  barred  against  her,  the  gate  of  hell  is  always 
open  to  a  helpless  child  of  sorrow,  and  there  are 
plenty  waiting  to  welcome  her  to  the  hospitable 
haunts  of  sin  and  shame. 

I  heard  her  tale.  What  could  I  do?  With 
no  home  of  my  own,  and  unwilling  to  confide 
her  story  to  another,  I  took  her,  a  torn  and 
bleeding  lamb,  to  the  Good  Shepherd's  arms  : 
thank  God,  there  is  always  room  enough  in 
Jesus'  tender  heart,  and  He  casts  no  one  out. 
And  I  could  not  leave  her  to  perish.  I  received 
her  into  my  own  lodgings,  and  shared  with  her 
my  shelter  and  my  food.  None  of  those  around 
us  knew  her  history.  The  dews  of  kindly  sym- 
pathy revived  the  freshness  of  her  stricken  life, 
and  in  that  blood  that  cleanseth  from  all  sin  she 
found  a  remedy  for  every  blot  and  every  stain. 
I  led  her  to  the  place  where  a  few  disciples  of 
the  Lord  gathered  to  pray  one  for  another,  and 
to  exhort  one  another,  and  so  much  the  more 

62 


The    Orphan    Girl. 

as  they  saw  THE  DAY  approaching,  and  there 
she  confessed  the  Saviour  as  her  Lord  and  God. 
She  was  saved, — saved  from  plunging  into 
the  gulf  of  ruin,  and  perhnps  from  dragging 
others  down  after  her  ;  and  saved  by  the  bless- 
ing of  God  upon  a  few  kind  words.  And  how 
many  others,  treading  the  same  perilous  path, 
might  be  saved  by  the  whispers  of  some  gentle 
voice,  and  the  outstretching  of  some  helping 
hand.  "Oh,  lady,"  said  a  poor  child  of  shame 
to  one  who  met  her  by  the  way  with  words  of 
pitying  love,  "If  there  were  more  like  you  in 
this  world,  there  would  be  less  like  me!" 

"A  little  word  in  kindness  spoken, 

A  motion  or  a  tear, 

Hath  often  healed  the  heart  that's  broken, 
And  made  a  friend  sincere." 

Subsequently  I  met  the  man  whose  cursed 
friendship  had  ensnared  the  stricken  one.  lie 
quailed  with  shame  as  I  reproved  him  in  the 
fear  of  God,  and  invited  him  to  come  to  the 
place  of  prayer  and  seek  forgiveness  for  his  sins. 
He  was  ashamed  to  come,  lest  I  should  publicly 
expose  his  vileness.  I  told  him  I  would  not  do 
it,  but,  said  I,  "I  will  expose  you,  if  you  do  not 
turn  from  your  present  course."  He  commended 
me,  and  thanked  me  for  my  faithfulness,  and  to 
my  surprise  I  saw  him  afterward  in  a  little  social 
meeting  where,  with  tears  of  penitence,  he  con- 
fessed that  he  had  led  a  sinful  life,  and  pointing 
63 


The    Orphan    Girl. 

to  me  said,  with  a  depth  of  meaning  which  I 
alone  could  fathom,  "That  young  girl  has  been 
the  means  of  my  salvation." 

I  trust  his  penitence  was  genuine,  but  I  only 
know  this,  that  when  my  poor,  stricken  com- 
panion had  seen  the  waves  of  sorrow  ebb  away, 
— when  the  bitterness  of  those  dark  hours  in 
her  history  had  come  to  be  among  the  memories 
of  things  gone  by,  when  brighter  and  better 
days  had  dawned  upon  her,  and  when, — restored 
to  health  and  improved  in  mind, — she  had  won 
the  heart  and  hand  of  an  excellent  young  man, 
and  became  his  wife,  this  man,  who  long  before 
had  humbly  sought  her  forgiveness  for  the  wrong 
he  had  done  her,  was  to  them  as  a  father  and  a 
friend,  and  sought  by  varied  acts  of  kind  con- 
sideration to  atone  for  the  wrong  that  he  had 
done,  and  scatter  sunshine  upon  a  path  on  which 
he  had  cast  so  black  a  shade. 

Many  years  have  passed  since  then  ;  and  some 
of  the  circumstances  have  already  passed  from 
my  mind.  But  I  have  thought  it  good  to  place 
on  record  this  story  of  my  first  effort  to  recover 
from  the  snare  of  the  devil  one  who  had  been 
led  captive  by  Satan  at  his  will,  that  other 
hearts  may  be  stirred  up  to  pity,  and  other  hands 
stretched  out  to  save  those  who,  for  lack  of  help 
and  sympathy,  are  going  down  to  death,  and 

64 


The   Orphan   Girl. 

leading  others  in  the  path  to  ruin  and  perdition. 

I  hare  narrated  the  facts  as  exactly  as  I  can 
recollect  them.  I  could  go  to-day  and  point 
out  the  places  where  they  occurred ;  but  the 
name  of  every  person  mentioned  in  this  narra- 
tion has  passed  entirely  from  my  memory  ;  and 
this  is  well,  for  I  trust  that  God  has  blotted  from 
his  book  the  record  of  the  sins  that  caused  such 
sorrow  then.  But  memory  still  recalls  the 
beaming  eye  and  youthful  beauty  of  that  orphan 
girl,  and  the  meekened  smile  of  that  poor  wan- 
derer, upon  whom  the  Lord  had  mercy,  and 
who  was  thus  brought  home  in  peace.  Where 
she  may  be  to-day  I  cannot  tell .  Our  paths  have 
diverged  widely,  and  for  many  years  I  have 
heard  no  tidings  of  her.  Perhaps  I  may  recog- 
nize her  some  day  beneath  the  tree  of  life,  when 
the  burdens  of  mortality  are  laid  aside. 

Till  then  let  us  labor  on.  Let  us  lift  up  the 
bowed  down.  Let  us  seek  the  erring.  Let 
us  save  the  lost.  "And  of  some  have  compas- 
sion, making  a  difference  :  and  others  save  with 
fear,  pulling  them  out  of  the  fire ;  hating  even 
the  garment  spotted  by  the  flesh." 

"Speak  gently  to  the  erring, 

Thou  kiiowest  not  the  power 
With  which  the  dark  temptation  came, 

In  some  unguarded  hour. 
Thou  mayest  not  know  how  earnestly 

They  struggled,  nor  how  well ; 
Until  the  hour  of  darkness  came. 

And  sadly  then  they  fell." 

C  65 


THE  BROKEN  SNARE. 


The  orphan  girl  whose  rescue  I  have  narrated 
had  left  me,  and  had  gone  to  an  excellent  situ- 
ation which  had  been  obtained  for  her.  I  still 
resided  in  C ,  and  retained  my  rooms,  board- 
ing myself,  preferring  to  be  alone  with  God  in 
my  hours  of  repose,  rather  than  to  be  in  the 
whirl  and  bustle  of  a  public  boarding-house, 
and  also  finding  opportunities  of  usefulness  in 
my  seclusion  which  I  could  not  otherwise  enjoy. 

As  I  sought  from  day  to  day  to  know  and 
follow  the  leadings  of  the  guiding  hand  of  God, 
I  felt  at  one  time  a  strong  impression  that  I 
must  go  again  to  the  same  house  of  infamy  from 
which  the  orphan  girl  had  so  providentially  been 
delivered.  I  hesitated  about  doing  so,  as  some 
of  my  friends  had  expressed  their  disapproval 
of  my  previous  adventure,  and  as  I  was  not 
prepared  to  inform  them  of  the  results  attained, 
I  could  not  well  reply  to  the  objections  which 
they  urged. 

The  impression  of  duty,  however,  followed 
me  from  day  to  day,  and  became  too  strong  to 

C6 


The    Broken    Snare. 

be  forgotten  or  neglected,  and  I  laid  the  matter 
before  a  Christian  lady  who,  with  her  believing 
husband,  volunteered  to  accompany  me.  Thus 
encouraged,  I  invited  two  other  Christian 
friends,  and  at  eventide  we  set  forth  upon  our 
mission. 

A  short  walk  led  us  to  the  place  of  our  des- 
tination. Knocking  for  admittance,  the  door 
was  opened  by  a  beautiful  young  lady  some 
twenty  years  of  age,  whose  whole  appearance 
indicated  that  this  was  no  place  for  her,  and 
that  she  had  been  accustomed  to  other  and  far 
different  scenes. 

She  invited  us  to  enter.  "We  did  so,  made 
known  our  errand,  and  requested  the  privilege 
of  praying  with  them  there.  After  some  hesi- 
tation a  reluctant  consent  was  given,  and  we 
bowed  the  knee  in  the  presence  of  the  Lord, 
and  lifted  up  our  cries  to  Him.  The  Holy 
Ghost  was  present.  "Two  or  three"  were 
agreed  to  implore  the  divine  blessing.  One 
after  another  we  poured  out  the  deep  longings 
which  were  begotten  within  our  hearts  by  that 
'Spirit  which  "maketh  intercession  for  the  saints 
according  to  the  will  of  God,"  and  "He  who 
knoweth  the  mind  of  the  Spirit"  heard  our 
prayers.  And  while  the  realities  of  coming 
judgment  rose  up  before  their  minds,  pressed 
67 


The   Broken    Snare. 

home  by  the  convincing  power  of  the  divine 
messenger,  the  hardest  hearts  quailed  in  view  of 
the  approaching  day  of  God,  and  sighs  and  sobs 
of  grief  were  heard  throughout  the  room. 

Rising  from  prayer  we  observed  that  the 
young  lady  who  admitted  us  had  covered  her 
face  with  her  handkerchief,  and  sat  weeping  as 
if  her  heart  would  break.  Oh  how  I  pitied  her  ! 
I  could  not  leave  her  without  speaking  an 
encouraging  word,  and  trying  to  win  her  from 
the  ways  of  sin  and  degradation  ;  and  I  found 
opportunity  to  whisper  my  name  and  residence 
in  her  ear,  and  to  invite  her  to  call  on  me, 
appointing  an  hour  when  I  would  be  at  home 
to  receive  her.  She  promised  me  that  she 
would  come,  and  we  took  our  leave,  and  turned 
homeward  with  sad  and  burdened  hearts.  On 
arriving  at  my  rooms  we  again  united  in  fer- 
vent prayers  for  the  deliverance  of  this  poor 
child,  whose  sorrow  had  so  touched  our  hearts, 
and  we  earnestly  pleaded  with  God  to  interpose 
in  her  behalf. 

The  following  day  I  remained  at  home,  that 
I  might  fulfill  the  engagement  I  had  made,  and' 
continued  still  to  seek  the  help  and  wisdom  of 
the  Lord  in  prayer.  The  designated  hour 
arrived,  a  knock  was  heard,  I  opened  the  door, 
and  admitted  the  poor  stricken  one  to  my 

68 


The    Broken    Snare. 

dwelling.  As  she  crossed  the  threshold  the 
pent-up  feelings  of  her  heart  gushed  out,  and 
she  fell  upon  my  neck  and  burst  into  tears.  I 
could  but  weep  with  her  in  her  trouble  ;  and  wre 
sat  down  together,  and  I  drew  from  her  the 
bitter  story  of  her  sorrows  ; — the  old  story  ; — 
alas  !  that  it  should  be  ever  fresh  and  new  to 
many  torn  and  bleeding  hearts  ! 

I  learned  that  my  visitor  was  the  daughter  of 
a  respectable  widow  lady  residing  in  another 
county,  some  twenty-five  miles  away.  She  was 
intelligent,  refined,  and  educated ;  acquainted 
with  French,  Latin,  music,  painting,  embroid- 
ery, and  the  various  useful  and  ornamental 
accomplishments  taught  in  the  academy  of  which 
she  was  recently  a  graduate,  but  like  many 
young  and  unsuspecting  girls,  she  was  ignorant 
of  the  snares  of  Satan,  and  had  fallen  a  prey  to 
his  devices. 

For  some  time  a  young  man  had  been  paying 
her  his  addresses,  which' she  had  encouraged. 
Her  mother  warned  her  faithfully  against  him, 
but  she  regarded  the  warnings  as  untimely,  and 
her  suspicions  as  unjust.  Poor  girl  !  she  had 
yet  to  learn  in  a  dark  and  bitter  school  the  truth 
that  so  few  young  people  understand,  that  a 
true  mother  is  the  best  earthly  friend  the  young 
can  hope  to  find. 


The    Broken    Snare. 

Deluded  by  the  artful  ways  and  wheedling 
speeches  of  this  miserable  villain,  she  had  con- 
sented to  leave  her  mother's  house,  that  home 
of  innocence  and  love  and  peace,  and  had  eloped 
xvith  him  to  a  neighboring  town  where  a  mar- 
riage ceremony  had  been  performed,  and  then 
he  had  brought  her  to  that  house  to  board. 

Her  enjoyment  was  brief.  After  a  few  days 
he  told  her  that  their  marriage  was  a  sham,  per- 
formed by  one  of  his  villainous  friends,  and  that 
she  was  not  his  wife  and  need  never  expect  to 
be.  Thus  passed  the  day-dreams  that  had 
beguiled  her  from  the  straight  path,  and  thus 
the  snare  of  Satan  closed  itself  around  its  help- 
less victim. 

He  left  her  to  her  fate.  Homeless,  helpless, 
penniless  and  disgraced,  she  knew  not  what  to 
do.  Broken  in  spirit,  she  felt  that  she  could 
not  return  to  her  home,  and  bring  dishonor  on 
her  friends,  and  she  was  ready  to  bid  adieu  to 
hope  and  joy,  and  sink  in  helplessness  and 
despair.  But  God  had  pitied  her,  and  it  was 
while  she  thus  sat  in  darkness  and  dejection, 
that  I  was  urged  by  an  inward  impulse,  I  knew 
not  why,  to  go  and  seek  the  lost ; — and  if  ever 
there  was  a  soul  made  glad  with  one  ray  of  hope 
of  deliverance  from  a  snare  of  Satan,  she  was  that 
soul.  I  heard  the  story,  and  we  bowed  before 
70 


The    Broken    Snare. 

the  Lord  in  prayer ;  and  her  petition  for  mercy 
and  salvation  broke  out,  not  in  words,  but  in 
such  tears  as  Mary  poured  upon  the  blessed 
Saviour's  feet,  and  like  Mary,  she  was  forgiven 
much  and  she  loved  much. 

We  then  considered  what  to  do.  She  was  an 
outcast  from  all  society,  and  the  gay  and  fail- 
that  would  smile  upon  the  author  of  her  calam- 
ities would  have  gathered  their  silken  robes 
about  them,  and  spurned  her  from  their  pres- 
ence as  a  thing  unclean.  But  Jesus  had  received 
her ;  and  how  could  I  reject  her  and  cast  her 
out?  I  could  not  do  it,  and  I  invited  her  to 
come  with  me,  and  promised  to  be  to  her  a 
friend  and  helper  through  whatever  might  occur. 

She  gladly  accepted  my  invitation,  left  the 
wretched  place  where  she  had  been,  and  came 
to  share  my  home.  She  went  with  me  to  the 
place  of  prayer  and  praise,  and  there,  in  tears 
and  broken-hcartedness,  she  confessed  herself 
a  helpless  sinner,  trusting  only  for  salvation  in 
the  grace  and  love  of  Jesus  Christ  the  sinner's 
friend. 

She  remained  with  me,  and  wrought  by  my 
side  from  day  to  day,  and  with  mo  found  a 
hearty  welcome  among  the  people  of  the  Lord, 
— none  of  them  knowing  of  the  troubles  she 
had  undergone.  And  though  sometimes  she 
71 


The   Broken    Snare. 

reproved  herself  for  the  part  she  was  acting,  I 
held  her  back  from  making  more  explicit  con- 
fessions to  others  who  might  not  have  known 
how  to  sympathize  with  her,  and  who  had  no 
interest  in  or  business  with  sins  which  God  had 
forgiven,  and  which  no  one  else  had  a  right  to 
know. 

A  few  months  passed  on  thus,  until  one  eve- 
ning she  told  the  friends  whose  fellowship  she 
had  shared,  that  she  must  leave  them,  and  bade 
them  an  affectionate  farewell.  They  expressed 
their  regret  at  parting  with  one  whom  they  had 
loved  so  dearly ;  and  we  bade  them  adieu  and 
returned  to  our  lodgings.  I  had  an  upper  room, 
remote  from  my  other  apartments,  and  this  was 
assigned  to  her.  Here  she  remained,  unseen 
save  by  myself.  A  letter  was  written  to  her 
mother,  rehearsing  all  the  sad  and  bitter  tale, 
and  she  came  at  once,  broken-hearted  with  her 
great  affliction.  She  remained  with  us  a  month, 
and  was  supposed  to  be  a  boarder  whom  I  had 
taken  to  accommodate  during  a  brief  sojourn  in 
the  place,  and  when  she  returned  home  she  bore 
with  her  a  helpless  babe,  that  "she  had  taken 
out  of  pity,  as  its  father  had  deserted  it,  audits 
mother  was  unable  to  care  for  it."  Her  daugh- 
ter soon  followed  her  to  her  home,  and  remained 
with  her  mother  for  a  season,  and  then  she  came 

72 


The   Broken    Snare. 

back  again  to  our  circle ,  and  was  warmly  wel~ 
comed  with  genuine  affection  by  numerous  friends 
who  congratulated  her  upon  her  safe  return. 

She  still  continued  with  me.  From  that  time 
forward  her  life  was  one  of  humble,  consistent, 
unaffected  service  in  her  Master's  cause.  The 
snare  was  broken,  and  she  had  escaped.  She 
was  saved,  and  her  gratitude  to  her  Saviour  and 
to  those  who  had  been  instrumental  in  her  deliv- 
erance knew  no  bounds.  The  ransomed  captive 
glorified  the  God  of  her  salvation,  and,  happy 
in  the  loving  fellowship  of  those  who  respected 
her  for  her  rare  gifts  and  earnest  piety,  she 
labored  not  in  vain  to  induce  others  to  share 
the  grace  which  she  had  known.  Our  fellow- 
ship in  Christ  became  most  intimate  and  sweet, 
and  our  humble  home  became  a  blessed  Bethel 
to  many  tossed  and  troubled  souls,  who  turned 
aside  to  it  as  to  an  oasis  in  the  desert,  for 
refreshment  and  for  rest. 

Time  passed  on,  and  changes  came.  An 
excellent  and  useful  young  man,  admiring  her 
Christian  zeal  and  fidelity,  sought  her  acquaint- 
ance and  solicited  her  hand.  This  was  a  new 
and  bitter  trial  for  her.  She  desired  to  do  right. 
She  could  not  deceive  him,  and  she  felt  con- 
strained to  refuse  his  offer.  He  sought  to  know 
the  reason,  but  she  could  not  give  it.  Unknown 
73 


The    Broken    Snare. 

to  her  I  wrote  and  told  him  all ;  and  when  he 
knew  the  story,  with  a  nobleness  of  feeling,  alas 
too  rare  !  his  judgment,  his  conscience,  and  his 
affections  still  led  him  to  press  his  suit,  and  at 
length  they  were  married  "in  the  Lord." 
Heaven's  blessings  of  life  and  health  and  love 
and  peace  abode  upon  them.  The  absent  little 
one  found  its  way  back  into  its  mother's  arms  ; 
and  walking  together  in  the  commandments  and 
ordinances  of  the  Lord,  they  were  useful,  zeal- 
ous and  beloved  laborers  in  the  cause  of  Christ ; 
and  when  last  I  saw  them  they  were  still  press- 
ing on  in  their  heavenly  way  and  looking  for 
"that  blessed  hope  and  the  glorious  appearing 
of  the  great  God  and  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ." 

For  a  few  years  past  I  have  lost  sight  of  them, 
and  I  may  see  them  no  more  in  this  world ;  but 
I  hope  to  meet  them  by  and  by  in  the  presence 
of  Him  who  said  to  one  of  old,  "Neither  do  I 
condemn  thee:  go,  and  sin  no  more." 

In  the  hope  that  others  may  seek  to  save  the 
lost  and  fallen,  this  record  is  given  to  the  world. 
The  circumstances  related  are  facts,  and  the  rec- 
ord is  as  accurate  as  my  recollections  can  make 
it.     The  identity  of  the  parties  has  never  been  T 
disclosed  ;  their  secret   is  with   themselves  and  \ 
me.     And   when  my  husband   hears  men  say  \ 
that  "women  cannot  keep  a  secret,"  he  says  he 

74  J 


The    Broken    Snare. 

knows  better  than  that,  for  though  he  has  met 
the  parties  to  these  transactions  he  has  not  the 
slightest  suspicion  as  to  who  they  are.  The 
promises  that  I  made  to  that  rescued  one  are 
sacred  still,  and  till  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  are 
made  known  before  the  throne  of  One  "who 
knows  how  to  have  compassion  on  the  ignorant 
and  them  that  are  out  of  the  way, "I  hide  in  the 
inner  chambers  of  my  memory  the  name  of  her 
who  was  delivered  from  "the  broken  snare." 


THE     REFUGE. 

By  many  sorrows  burdened,  weighed  down  by  sin  and  guilt, 
My  soul  hath  fled  to  Jesus,  whose  blood  for  me  was  spilt; 
And  in  his  boundless  mercy  my  heart  hath  found  repose, 
From  all  my  inward  sorrow,  from  all  my  outward  foes. 

When  Satan  would  affright  me,  and  sins  disturb  my  soul ; 
When  tempests  lower  above  me,  and  waters  o'er  me  roll; 
When  all  around  is  vocal  witli  terror  and  alarm, 
I  flee  to  Christ  for  refuge  and  trust  his  mighty  arm. 

My  house,  though  small  and  lowly,  is  built  upon  a  rock; 
It  fears  no  torrent's  fury,  and  dreads  no  tempest's  shock; 
Though  helpless  and  unworthy,  yet  confident  I  cling, 
And  trust  in  God  to  hide  me  beneath  his  sheltering  wing. 

Strong  in  my  mighty  refuge  my  soul  secure  doth  sit: 
I  hear  my  Saviour's  counsels,  while  lingeiing  at  his  feet; 
And.  looking  up  confiding.  1  meet  the  loving  eye 
Of  him  who  bore  my  sorrows  aiul  for  my  sins  did  die. 

In  him  all  grace  and  mercy,  all  power  and  love  unite; 

He  is  my  strength  and  wisdom,  my  righteousness  and  light; 

In  him  iny  soul  has  pardon,  and  rest  and  joy  and  peace; 

His  smile,  like  summer  sunshine,  bids  doubts  and  anguish  cease. 

I  find  him  near  in  troubles,  I  come  to  him  in  prayer; 

I  tell  him  all  my  sorrows,  I  oust  on  him  my  care; 

My  soul  looks  out  with  longing,  and  waits  to  see  him  come. 

And  gather  all  his  pilgrims  to  rest  with  him  at  home.          it.  L.  H. 

75 


A  SAD,  SAD  TALE. 


About  the  year  1848  there  was  a  time  of 
special  awakening  arid  religious  interest  in  all 

the  churches  in  the  village  of  G .  Among 

those  who  boarded  in  the  family  with  me  was 
a  young  lady  of  superior  talents  and  accomplish- 
ments, a  daughter  of  one  of  the  first  families  in 
her  native  town  ;  beautiful,  brilliant,  gay,  and 
thoughtless. 

I  had  frequent  conversations  with  her  con- 
cerning her  soul's  eternal  interests,  and  in  writ- 
ing to  her  father,  who  was  a  Methodist  class- 
leader,  she  mentioned  her  acquaintance  and 
association  with  me.  I  soon  received  a  letter 
from  him  expressing  his  joy  that  his  daughter 
had  become  acquainted  with  a  Christian  friend, 
and  wishing  me  to  take  a  special  interest  in  her 
welfare,  for  which  he  felt  a  deep  anxiety. 

I  endeavored  by  every  appropriate  means  to 
engage  her  thoughts  upon  the  subject  of  personal 
religion,  but  she  had  become  proud  and  vain  ; 
and  having  formed  the  acquaintance  of  many  of 
the  gay  and  worldly  around,  she  at  length 

76 


A.    Sadf    Sad   Tale. 

avoided  me,  and  finally  left  the  family  and 
sought  another  boarding-place,  that  she  might 
pursue  her  course  of  pleasure  undisturbed. 

The  work  of  grace  progressed  with  mighty 
power ;  many  were  converted  among  all  the 
churches,  especially  among  the  Baptists,  and 
the  believers  in  the  near  coming  of  the  Saviour. 

This  young  lady  attended  the  Baptist  meet- 
ings, and  shared  in  the  deep  conviction  of  sin 
which  was  wrought  in  many  hearts  by  the  power 
of  the  Holy  Spirit, — but  she  strove  to  resist  the 
heavenly  influence.  She  had  four  young  com- 
panions, gay  and  thoughtless  like  herself.  The 
minister  of  the  Church  solemnly  and  faithfully 
warned  the  ungodly  of  their  danger,  and  told 
them  that  no  one  could  pass  through  that  revival 
without  feeling  the  influence  of  the  Spirit  of 
God. 

These  five  young  ladies  scoffed  at  the  idea, 
and  promised  each  other  to  resist  all  such 
impressions  ;  and  boasted  among  their  acquaint- 
ances that  they  would  show  them  that  they  could 
pass  through  the  revival  and  not  be  affected  by 
it.  Accordingly  they  attended  the  meetings 
and  sneered  and  trifled  with  all  the  tears  shed 
and  prayers  offered  on  their  behalf.  I  sent  a 
note  to  the  minister  requesting  special  prayers 
for  this  young  lady  ;  the  request  was  laid  before 
11 


A    Sad,    Sad    Tale. 

the  meeting, — no  name  being  mentioned  ; — but 
it  provoked  fresh  scoffing  from  them,  and  they 
seemed  determined  to  harden  their  hearts  and 
brave  it  out  against  all  convictions,  admonitions, 
and  entreaties.  But  "though  hand  join  in  hand 
tho  wicked  shall  not  be  unpunished,"  and  "it  is 
a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  liv- 
ing God." 

For  some  weeks  after  this  young  lady  left  my 
boarding-place  to  avoid  my  entreaties,  I  did 
not  meet  her,  though  I  frequently  heard  of  her 
course,  and  did  not  forget  to  pray  for  her. 

One  morning  when  engaged  about  my  daily 
task,  a  lady  came  to  see  me  and  said,  "Mary 

Jane  C y  is  dying,  and  wants  to  see  you." 

I  left  my  work  and  hastened  to  her  boarding- 
place  ;  as  I  entered  her  room  she  stretched  her 
hands  frantically  towards  me  and  said,  "You 
have  come  to  see  me  die,  but  don't  pray  for  me; 
it  is  of  no  use."  I  tried  to  point  her  to  the 
sinner's  friend  and  Saviour,  but  she  spoke  of 
her  having  grieved  the  Holy  Spirit  away,  and 
screamed,  "Don't  talk  to  me!  It  is  too  late! 
there  is  no  hope  for  me!"  I  tried  to  speak  to 
her,  but  it  was  in  vain ;  her  eyes  glared  wildly 
in  their  sockets,  her  cheeks  were  flushed  with 
the  hues  of  mortal  disease,  and  there  burst  from 
her  lips  a  torrent  of  cursing  and  blasphemy  such 

78 


A.    Sad,    Sad    Tale. 

as  I  had  never  heard  before.  She  continued 
this  till  her  voice  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and 
she  soon  sank  in  death  with  whispered  curses 
on  her  lips. 

I  have  witnessed  many  sights  of  sadness  and 
horror,  but  this  was  the  most  awful  scene  I  ever 
beheld.  I  felt  relieved  when  her  lips  were 
sealed  in  death.  I  looked  upon  her  face  as  she 
lay  coffined  and  shrouded, — the  most  beautiful 
corpse  I  ever  saw, — but  I  could  not  banish  from 
my  memory  those  awful  oaths  and  imprecations 
which  marked  the  giddy  scoffer's  closing  hours. 

They  carried  her  to  the  home  of  her  child- 
hood,— that  home  that  she  had  so  lately  left,  all 
radiant  with  youth  and  beauty  and  joy  and 
hope,  and  buried  her  out  of  their  sight.  It 
fell  to  my  lot  to  write  to  her  father  concerning 
her  death  ;  and  though  I  was  constrained  to  say 
that  I  feared  she  died  without  hope,  I  could  not 
distress  his  sorrowing  heart  with  the  recital  of 
the  fearful  details  of  the  dying  scene. 

Another  of  this  giddy  circle,  Mary  Jane's 
most  intimate  associate,  was  taken  sick  about 
the  same  time  with  tht-  same  disease, — typhoid 
fever, — and  sank  beneath  its  power.  Her  last 
hours  were  mostly  passed  in  the  stupor  of  dis- 
ease. Now  and  then  she  would  rouse  herself 
from  her  lethargy,  and  gnzing  about  her,  say, 
79 


A    Sad,    Sad    Tale. 

"Am  I  going  to  die?"  and  then  sink  back  into 
insensibility.  One  week  from  the  time  of  poor 
Mary  Jane's  awful  death,  she,  too,  died,  not  in 
wildness  of  frenzy,  but  in  despairing  stupor, 
and  without  hope  in  Christ. 

Her  death  broke  the  spell  that  bound  these 
proud  young  ladies,  and  the  other  three  gave 
over  their  rebellious  scoffings,  yielded  to  the 
voice  of  mercy  and  of  love,  and  confessed  them- 
selves the  followers  of  Christ,  the  Son  of  God. 

Many  years  have  passed  since  these  things 
occurred,  but  I  can  never  forget  the  dying  hour 

of  poor  Mary  Jane  C y.  For  more  than  a 

year  her  expiring  screams  and  blasphemies 
haunted  me  by  night  and  day.  And  now  for 
the  first  time  this  truthful  record  is  given  to  the 
world,  in  the  hope  that  some  poor,  thoughtless 
sinner  who  is  resisting  the  gentle  strivings  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  may  be  warned  to  escape  a  fate 
like  hers, — may  yield  to  the  call  of  heavenly 
mercy,  and  heed  the  word  of  God  which  says, 
"To-day,  if  ye  will  hear  His  voice  harden  not 
your  hearts." 

80 


THE  FOUR  BED-QUILTS. 


The  world's  way  to  wealth  is,  get  and  keep ; 
keep  what  you  get  and  get  all  you  can.  The 
Christian  course  is  to  give  and  receive,  to  sow 
generously  and  reap  bountifully ;  to  cast  the 
bread  upon  the  waters  and  find  it  again  after 
many  days.  Man's  doctrine  is,  "Look  out  for 
number  one."  Christ's  doctrine  is,  "Give,  and  it 
shall  be  given  unto  you  :  good  measure,  pressed 
down,  shaken  together,  and  running  over,  shall 
men  give  into  your  bosom."  Both  of  these 
principles  cannot  be  correct.  Which  is  the  right 
one?  My  experience  testifies  that  God  is  true, 
that  his  plan  is  right,  and  that  his  promises  will 
never  fail. 

The  poor  of  this  world  are  under  the  especial 
charge  of  God  and  of  his  church.  Their  pov- 
erty, it  is  true,  may  often  be  in  part  their  fault, 
and  so  was  that  of  the  prodigal  son  ;  and  yet  it 
may  be  God's  means  of  bringing  them  to  con- 
sider and  repent.  And  while  God  thus  deals 
with  the  distressed  and  stricken  children  of  men, 
his  hand  may  guide  them  to  us  for  help  and 
81 


The   Four  Bed-quilts. 

comfort,  and  if  so,  shall  we  refuse  to  heed  his 
providential  call  ? 

I  know  the  objections  and  excuses  of  unbelief 
and  covetousness  and  worldly  prudence  ;  but 
God's  word  gives  ample  answers  to  them  all. 
And  God's  word  is  safest  and  best.  To  "sell 
and  give  alms"  is  safer  than  to  "buy  and  get  in 
debt ;"  and  many  can  bear  witness  to  this  truth. 
Often  have  I  found  the  increase  that  comes  of 
scattering  abroad,  and  sometimes  the  poverty 
that  results  from  the  withholding  more  than  is 
meet ;  and  to  the  praise  of  God,  and  for  the  en- 
couragement of  others  in  the  path  of  obedience, 
I  record  the  following  facts,  which  show  the  faith- 
fulness of  our  heavenly  Father  to  his  promises. 

In  the  autumn  of  1856,  we  removed  to  Roch- 
ester, N.  Y.,  a  place  which  became  to  us  a  fur- 
nace of  affliction,  and  also  a  scene  of  numerous 
and  varied  mercies  at  the  hand  of  God.  Our 
stock  of  household  gear  was  small,  for  we  began 
with  almost  nothing,  and  the  publication  of  tracts 
for  free  distribution,  and  the  preaching  of  the 
gospel  freely  to  the  poor,  had  brought  us  little 
worldly  gain.  We  were  poor  in  this  world,  but 
rich  in  faith. 

The  providence  of  God  prepared  for  us  a  rest- 
ing-place among  Christian  friends  while  we  were 
waiting  to  secure  a  tenement,  and  while  there 

82 


The   Four   Bed-quilts. 

we  became  slightly  acquainted  with  a  young 
woman  who  was  sometimes  employed  to  do 
work  for  the  family.  Her  appearance  indicated 
that  she  was  not  a  stranger  to  trouble,  and  upon 
inquiring  into  her  circumstances  I  found  that 
she  was  very  poor.  A  sick  husband,  a  mother 
ill  with  cancer,  and  four  little  girls,  all  depen- 
dent for  support  upon  the  labor  of  her  own 
unskilled  hands,  furnished  about  as  heavy  a  load 
as  one  poor  woman  was  able  to  bear. 

My  sympathies  were  enlisted  for  her,  but  I 
hardly  knew  what  to  do.  She  was  destitute 
and  needy,  and  I  was  unable  to  help  her  as  I 
desired.  I  had,  however,  two  dresses,  some- 
what worn,  which  I  had  purposed  to  make  into 
bed-quilts  for  myself ;  but  feeling  that  her  need 
was  greater  than  my  own,  I  proposed  to  the 
friend  where  I  was  stopping,  to  give  the  poor 
woman  my  dresses  to  cut  over  for  her  little 
girls,  so  that  they  might  be  comfortable,  and 
have  something  to  wear  to  meeting  and  to  Sun- 
day-School. 

The  good  sister  replied,  "If  you  begin  in 
this  way  to  look  after  all  the  poor  in  the  city, 
you  will  have  your  hands  full,  and  never  have 
anything  yourself ;"  and  I  confess  this  looked 
like  a  very  reasonable  statement  of  the  state  of 
the  case, — for  neither  she  nor  I  had  learned  as 
83 


The  Four  Bed-quilts. 

much  of  the  goodness  of  God  as  we  have  since 
been  made  to  experience.  Another  friend  was 
equally  decided  in  her  objections  to  my  plan.  I 
however  mentioned  the  matter  to  my  husband, 
and  asked  his  counsel.  He  said,  "Go  ahead, 
and  clothe  up  the  children  with  what  you  have 
got,  and  the  Lord  will  provide  for  us."  So  I 
was  all  right  now,  and  I  determined  to  go  on 
with  good  courage. 

About   this   time   we   obtained   a   house  on 

G street,  and  were  anxious  to  get  settled. 

My  husband,  however,  was  called  away  to  some 
distance  by  a  special  request  to  attend  the  wed- 
ding of  an  intimate  friend,  and  also  to  preach 
the  gospel  to  the  people  there.  He  was  sorry 
to  be  absent  at  such  a  time,  but  as  he  had  to  go, 
and  as  the  house  was  vacated,  I  determined  to 
move  in  and  get  settled  while  he  was  gone  ;  and 
as  my  health  was  not  firm  I  sent  for  this  poor 
woman  to  come  and  help  me.  She  worked  for 
me  half  a  day,  and  on  paying  her  at  noon  I 
found  I  had  just  twenty-five  cents  left.  As  I 
gave  her  her  wages  I  noticed  her  sad  countenance , 
and  a  tear  stood  in  her  eye  as  she  turned  and 
said,  "Can't  you  hire  me  the  rest  of  the  day?" 
I  inquired  if  she  was  in  pressing  need.  She 
replied  that  she  had  no  food,  and  no  wood,  and 
that  her  little  children  had  not  clothing  sufficient 

84 


The  Four  Bed-quilts. 

to  protect  them  from  the  cold  either  by  day  or 
night.  I  saw  that  her  case  was  much  worse  than 
mine,  for  we  had  friends  and  credit,  while  few 
would  trust  a  poor  woman  who  had  nothing 
to  help  herself  with.  So  I  concluded  to  engage 
her  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  and  give  her  what 
money  I  had.  Accordingly  she  helped  me  on 
through  the  afternoon.  I  gave  her  the  money 
at  night,  and  should  have  been  glad  to  have 
ministered  to  her  wants,  but  I  had  no  food  in 
the  house,  as  we  had  only  just  moved,  and 
I  could  do  nothing  more  for  her.  But  just  as 
she  was  preparing  to  leave  at  night,  the  door- 
bell rang,  and  a  teamster  brought  a  load  of 
wood,  which  he  unloaded  in  the  yard.  I  was 
glad,  for  "Xow,"  thought  I,  "the  poor  woman 
can  have  some  wood."  A  few  moments  later 
there  came  a  quarter  of  beef,  and  a  barrel  of 
flour.  Then  I  felt  better,  and  cutting  her  a  piece 
of  beef,  and  filling  her  a  little  bag  with  flour, 
I  sent  the  poor  woman  home  to  her  family, 
loaded  down  with  the  good  things  which  the 
Lord  had  given  me,  and  thankful  that  he  had 
enabled  me  thus  to  dispense  his  bounty. 

During  the  week  one  of  my  old  dresses  got 

worked  over  into  new  ones  for  the  little  girls, 

another  sister  provided  shoes  for  two  of  them, 

and  I  gave  one  of  my  dresses  to  the  mother,  and 

85 


The  Four  Bed-quilts. 

very  soon  we  had  them  all  out  to  Sunday-School. 

In  the  meantime,  while  my  husband  was  at 

S ,  a  Christian  woman  came  to  him  and 

said,  "What  shall  I  send  to  your  wife? — what 
does  she  need?"  "Oh,  I  don't  know  :  send  her 
just  what  you  please,"  said  he,  for  he  felt  no 
call  to  go  about  and  tell  our  special  wants  among 
his  friends. 

"Well,"  said  she,  "I  have  just  quilted  a  bed- 
quilt,  and  I  believe  I  will  send  that ;"  he 
accepted  it  thankfully,  and  finally  she  concluded 
to  send  another  with  it,  though  she  knew  noth- 
ing of  our  circumstances.  My  husband  brought 
them  home,  and  threw  them  into  my  lap.  I 
understood  what  it  all  meant,  for  it  was  "just 
like  my  Father." 

Directly  after  his  return,  he  went  in  an  oppo- 
site direction  some  forty  miles  to  preach  in  some 
of  the  school-houses  in  "the  regions  beyond." 
He  was  there  a  little  time,  and  on  the  afternoon 
before  he  returned  he  called  at  the  house  of  a 
Christian  brother,  whose  wife  was  just  finishing 
a  bed-quilt,  and  also  remarked,  as  she  completed 
it,  that  she  was  going  to  send  it  to  Sister  Hast- 
ings. Another  lady  present  said  she  had  one 
at  home  that  she  would  like  to  send  if  it  was 
only  there  ;  and  taking  her  team  she  drove  four 
miles  to  her  home,  got  the  bed-quilt,  and  returned 

86 


The,   Four  Bed-quilts. 
with  it  in  season  for  the  meeting  in  the  evening. 

"  O 

The  following  morning  my  husband  came  home 
and  showed  me  what  the  Lord  had  sent  me  in 
return  for  what  I  had  lent  to  him.  He  bade  me 
however  say  nothing  about  it,  but  wait  and  see 
what  might  follow. 

When  we  were  comfortably  settled  the  two 
sisters  who  had  objected  so  strongly  to  my  giving 
my  clothes  away,  came  to  me  and  said,  "AVe 
want  you  to  hurry  and  get  those  quilts  ready, 
and  we  will  come  over  some  day  and  quilt  them 
for  you." 

So  one  day  the  dear  helpful  souls  came,  bring- 
ing provisions  with  them,  so  that  I  should  have 
no  extra  work,  and  equipped  with  needles  and 
thimbles,  prepared  to  do  the  j.>b.  I  welcomed 
them,  asked  them  to  sit  down  and  made  them 
as  happy  as  I  could. 

They  however  wanted  to  go  to  work.  "We 
did  not  come  to  visit,"  said  they,  "we  came  to 
work ;  and  we  Avant  you  to  get  our  work  ready 
for  us." 

I  still  delayed  them  a  little,  and  at  length, 
when  they  were  getting  impatient,  I  brought  out 
the  four  bed-quilts,  and  told  them  to  see  how 
well  the  Lord  had  paid  me  for  the  two  old 
dresses  that  I  had  lent  to  Him.  The  tears  stood 
in  their  eyes  as  I  told  them  the  story,  and  the 

87 


The  Four  Bed-quilts. 

dear  sisters  gladly  confessed  that  the  way  of 
faith  was  the  best  way,  and  that  it  was  safe  to 
trust  in  the  Lord. 

But  this  was  not  all ;  the  poor  woman  and  her 
children,  relieved  from  their  pressing  needs, 
attended  the  little  evening  meetings  which  we 
held  in  our  own  hired  house,  and  there  she  was 
enabled  to  confess  the  Saviour  as  her  Lord  and 
God,  and,  as  we  trust,  accept  the  salvation  that 
he  freely  offers  to  the  lost. 

This  was  many  years  ago ;  and  through  all 
these  years  the  Lord  has  been  to  us  a  present 
help  in  every  time  of  need.  We  have  been  pil- 
grims and  strangers  on  the  earth.  But  we  have 
never  been  left  to  suffer,  or  to  complain  of  want, 
and  we  have  had  to  look  solely  to  the  Lord  for 
help  and  support,  for  in  all  these  years  we  had 
no  promises  but  His  to  trust. 

But  he  has  carried  us  safely  through.  I  do 
not  know  as  I  have  ever  made  an  old  dress  into 
a  bed-quilt  yet.  When  we  have  had  two  gar- 
ments, we  have  given  to  those  that  had  none, 
and  God  has  given  us  new  clothes  for  old,  bed- 
quilts  all  made,  forworn-out  dresses,  dollars  for 
cents,  and  much  for  little  while  we  have  trusted 
him. 

And  now,  while  the  chill  of  winter  is  in  the 
frosty  air,  as  I  think  how  many  of  the  poor  are 
88 


The  Four  Bed-quilts. 

shivering  with  cold,  and  suffering  for  the  lack  of 
the  old  garments  which  others  are  hoarding  up, 
I  have  felt  led  to  relate  this  story,  simple  though 
it  may  seem  to  many,  in  the  hope  that  it  may 
encourage  some  among  tha  scattered  thousands 

O  O 

who  may  read  it  to  take  the  Lord  at  his  word, 
remembering  that  "  He  that  hath  pity  upon  the 
poor  lendeth  unto  the  Lord,  and  that  which  he 
hath  given  will  he  repay  him  again." 

It  is  safe  to  trust  in  God ; — and  when  his 
children  refuse  to  lend  to  Htm  he  has  many 
ways  to  show  them  that  there  is  nothing  gained 
by  disobeying  his  precepts. 

Well  do  I  remember  a  few  years  after  this, 
when  passing  through  Rochester,  N.  Y.,  on  my 
way  to  my  eastern  home,  I  called  at  the  house 
of  a  friend  and  found  a  young  convert  there  who 
seemed  to  need  the  strength  and  encourage- 
ment to  be  derived  from  the  fellowship  of  the 
saints  of  God.  A  large  and  interesting  meet- 
ing was  to  be  held  at  W.,  a  place  through 
which  I  was  to  pass  on  my  homeward  journey, 
and  this  young  brother  very  much  desired 
to  attend  the  meeting,  but  poverty  prevented. 
While  there  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  pay  his  fare 
thither,  but  as  I  had  been  spending  considerable 
money  that  season  in  consequence  of  ill  health, 
and  as  the  eight  dollars  needed  would  have 

O 

89 


The  Four  Bed-quilts. 

taken  the  last  dollar  that  I  had  left  after  paying 
my  own  passage,  I  felt  that  it  might  be  draw- 
ing too  heavily  upon  my  husband's  limited 
means,  and  so  I  said  nothing  about  it,  and  came 
away  without  him. 

I  purchased  my  ticket,  took  my  seat  in  the 
cars,  and  came  as  far  as  Albany,  feeling  all  the 
while  fearful  that  I  had  done  wrong  in  with- 
holding the  Lord's  money  when  duty  seemed 
to  call  for  its  disbursement.  At  Albany  we 
changed  cars,  crossed  the  river,  and  though 
I  took  extra  care  of  my  pocket  and  my  purse, 
yet,  as  I  carried  my  little  boy  in  my  arms,  when 
I  got  seated  in  the  cars  again  and  the  conductor 
came  for  my  ticket,  I  found,  for  the  first  time 
in  my  life,  that  my  pocket  had  been  picked, 
and  purse,  ticket,  eight  dollars  and  all  were 
gone.  Quick  as  thought  came  the  reflection, 

"Why  didn't  I  let  H have  that  money?" 

But  it  was  too  late, — the  money  was  gone,  and 
to  my  great  mortification,  for  once  I  had  to  liter- 
ally beg  my  way  along  to  my  place  of  destina- 
tion, enduring  the  scowls  of  a  cross  conductor, 
and  the  reproaches  of  my  own  conscience.  But 
I  learned  a  good  lesson  which  I  have  not  forgot, 
and  the  reader  can  find  out  just  what  it  was  by 
referring  to  the  eleventh  chapter  of  Proverbs, 
twenty-fourth  verse. 

90 


"ONE  MORE  UNFORTUNATE. 


"A  word  in  season,  how  good  is  it; "but 
how  often  the  word  remains  unspoken  until  the 
season  is  forever  past.  Many  a  poor,  sad  soul 
is  yearning  now  for  comfort  and  for  help ; 
to-day  they  are  within  our  reach  and  we  may 
speak  the  saving  word, — to-morrow  it  may  be 
too  late,  and  our  hearts  may  be  filled  with  deep 
and  vain  regrets.  Oh,  how  this  truth  was 
stamped  upon  my  soul  by  a  scene  which  I  once 
witnessed,  and  which  I  never  can  forget. 

It  was  one  midsummer  evening  in  the  year 
1857,  that  I  left  my  home  in  Rochester,  N.Y., 
and,  accompanied  by  my  niece  and  little  son 
not  three  years  old,  took  steamer  at  Charlotte, 
on  the  southern  shore  of  Lake  Ontario,  to  go 
via  Ogdensburg,  N.  Y.,  to  visit  a  sister  whose 
life  was  despaired  of,  and  who  resided  in  my 
native  place  in  Vermont.  The  night  was  dark, 
and  the  gathering  clouds  soon  gleamed  with 
lightnings  and  poured  their  waters  down,  but 
we  were  safely  embarked  on  board  the  steamer 
that  ploughed  her  way  onward  through  storm 
91 


"  One   More    Unfortunate" 

and  darkness  to  her  destined  port.  Retiring 
for  the  night  we  rested  as  best  we  could,  and 
awoke  the  following  morning  to  witness  the 
splendor  of  the  rising  day  as  it  gilded  the  placid 
bosom  of  the  beautiful  Ontario,  through  which 
our  steamer  cut  its  foaming  path. 

Early  in  the  morning  my  niece  went  out 
upon  the  deck,  and  soon  came  back  to  my  berth 
and  said,  "There  is  a  girl  out  there  that  is 
crying  and  feeling  real  bad.  I  asked  her  what 
the  matter  was  and  she  would  not  tell  me  ;  but 
I  determined  I  would  find  out,  and  I  asked  her 
if  she  was  going  home,  and  she  said,  *  I  haven't 
any  home  to  go  to.'  I  asked  her  where  her 
friends  lived,  and  she  said,  <  I  haven't  got  any 
friends.'  I  wish,  Aunt  H.,  that  you  would  go 
out  and  talk  with  her." 

I  arose  from  my  berth,  made  a  hasty  toilet, 
and  went  out  to  find  the  sorrowing  stranger, 
but  she  was  gone,  and  I  knew  not  where  to 
look  for  her,  and  returned  to  the  cabin.  The 
sail  was  pleasant,  the  company  agreeable,  and 
I  remained  in  the  cabin  most  of  the  time,  until, 
yielding  to  the  importunities  of  my  little  boy 
who  wanted  to  "go  out  and  see  the  wasser,"  I 
went  out  upon  the  deck  at  the  hinder  part  of 
the  steamer,  that  I  might  gratify  his  childish  curi- 
osity. While  leaning  against  the  railing,  holding 

92 


"  One   More    Unfortunate" 

him  in  my  arms,  he,  in  his  delight  at  the  scene, 
gave  a  sudden  spring  and  almost  escaped  from 
my  grasp  into  the  water.  I  shuddered  at  the 
danger  which  he  had  mercifully  escaped,  and 
drew  back  to  return  into  the  cabin .  But  the 
little  fellow  cried  and  disliked  to  go  in,  and 
as  I  turned  to  go  back  again,  I  noticed  a  young 
girl  of  some  eighteen  years  sitting  with  her 
arms  on  the  railing  and  her  face  buried  in  her 
handkerchief,  weeping  and  sobbing  as  if  in 
bitterness  of  soul.  By  her  side  stood  a  man 
between  forty  and  fifty  years  of  age,  who  had 
been  conversing  with  her,  but  who  quickly 
retired  at  my  approach,  and  left  the  girl  alone. 
I  noticed  her  apparent  distress,  and  concluding 
that  she  must  be  the  one  of  whom  my  niece  had 
spoken,  I  felt  moved  to  go  to  her  and  draw 
from  her  the  story  of  her  griefs.  For  three  or 
four  minutes,  perhaps,  I  walked  backward  and 
forward  near  her,  considering  how  I  might  best 
approach  her,  when  suddenly  she  started  up 
and  climbed  over  the  rail.  Thinking  she  might 
have  dropped  her  handkerchief,  I  looked  over 
to  see  if  there  was  another  deck  or  railing  below, 
and  as  I  saw  nothing  but  the  dark  and  foaming 
waters  beneath,  a  horrible  suspicion  flashed 
across  my  mind,  and  I  sprang  forward,  and 
holding  my  child  in  my  left  arm,  reached  round 

93 


"  One   More    Unfortunate? 

on  the  outside  of  the  post,  and  with  my  right 
hand  grasped  her  arm.  She  turned  her  head 
toward  me  with  a  wild,  despairing  look,  and 
with  a  sudden  movement,  which  almost  drew 
me  over  the  railing,  she  tore  herself  from  my 
grasp,  and  plunged  into  the  foaming  wake  of 
the  vessel,  which  shot  away  like  an  arrow, 
leaving  her  far  astern.  I  shrieked  with  terror, 
and  burst  into  the  cabin,  screaming,  "A  girl 
overboard !  a  girl  overboard ! "  and  rushed 
through  the  confusion  to  the  captain's  office  and 
gave  the  alarm.  Instantly  the  steamer  was 
stopped,  a  boat  was  lowered  and  pulled  back 
over  the  vessel's  wake  in  hope  of  recovering  the)] 
lost  one.  Alas  !  it  was  in  vain  ;  a  shawl  floating 
on  the  water  was  all  that  remained  of  the  pool 
girl.  They  returned  to  the  vessel,  the  boat 
was  hoisted  in,  and  the  throbbing  engine  pro- 
pelled the  steamer  on  her  course,  while  passen- 
gers, officers  and  crew,  gathered  around  me  in 
anxious  solicitude,  to  learn  the  facts  with  which 
the  reader  has  been  made  acquainted. 

Inquiry  into  the  circumstances  which  attended 
this  rash  act  developed  the  fact  that  some  of 
the  crew  had  observed  this  girl  sitting  there  all 
the  previous  night,  and  had  tried  in  vain  to 
induce  her  to  enter  the  cabin  ;  and  early  in  the 
morning,  before  the  passengers  were  astir,  some 

94 


"  One   More    Unfortunate" 

one  had  noticed  a  man  similar  in  appearance  to 
the  one  whom  I  had  described,  talking  very 
earnestly  with  her,  when  no  one  else  was  in 
hearing.  Search  was  instantly  made  for  this 
man,  who  after  awhile  was  found  secreted  near 
the  engine,  and  was  placed  in  confinement  to 
await  an  investigation.  The  captain  of  the 
boat  recollected  the  man  as  having  paid  the 
fare  of  this  girl  when  she  embarked  at  Char- 
lotte ;  and  he  was  identified  by  persons  on  board 
as  being  a  man  who  had  a  wife  and  children 
residing  at  one  of  the  ports  at  which  we  touched. 
The  man  seemed  agitated  and  guilty,  but  denied 
all  knowledge  of  the  girl,  and  as  there  seemed 
to  be  no  evidence  which  would  warrant  the 
retaining  of  him  in  custody,  he  was  set  at 
liberty,  and  left  the  boat  at  Oswego. 

The  circumstances  introduced  me  to  the  notice 
of  the  passengers  on  board  the  boat,  and  I 
endeavored  to  improve  the  opportunity  by 
distributing  tracts  and  conversing  with  them 
upon 'the  important  themes  suggested  by  the 
occurrences  of  the  day ;  and  I  hope  that  the 
labor  was  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord.  But  the 
poor  girl  was  gone.  Sleeping  beneath  the 
waters  of  the  Ontario,  until  all  that  are  in  their 
graves  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God 
and  come  forth,  when  the  sea  shall  give  up  the 

95 


"  One   More    Unfortunate" 

dead  that  are  therein,  to  stand  in  judgment 
before  the  "great  white  throne,"  she  had  passed 
beyond  the  reach  of  human  effort,  and  sunk  in 
sadness  down  to  death. 

And  to  me  was  given  the  last  opportunity  to 
speak  a  word  in  season  to  that  weary  heart,  and 
that  opportunity  had  passed  me  unimproved. 
Long  did  the  remembrance  of  that  scene  haunt 
my  mental  vision  ;  often  did  my  little  boy  in 
his  childish  prattlings  refer  to  the  sad  event ; 
and  while  it  ever  filled  my  spirit  with  a  name- 
less dread,  it  seemed  also  to  press  upon  my 
conscience  that  inspired  admonition,  "What- 
soever thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy 
might ;  for  there  is  no  work,  nor  device,  nor 
knowledge,  nor  wisdom,  in  the  grave,  whither 
thou  goest."  Eccl.  ix.  10. 

And  I  recall  this  circumstance,  hoping  that  it 
may  impress  some  other  heart  with  the  impor- 
tance of  constant  faithfulness  to  God,  and  obe- 
dience to  the  call  of  duty,  while  yet  there 
is  time  and  opportunity  to  seek  and  save  the 
lost.  God  only  knows  how  many  quivering, 
bleeding  hearts  are  to-day  longing  for  a  healing 
word  which  we  may  speak.  He  only  knows 
how  many  poor,  homeless  girls  are  driven  by 
the  craft  of  evil  men  to  make  a  fearful  choice, 
and  are  crowded  to  the  very  verge  of  ruin,  and 

96 


"  One   More    Unfortunate" 

have  no  one  to  extend  to  them  a  helping  hand, 
or  speak  to  them  a  sympathizing  word.  Alas  ! 
that  among  so  many  kindly,  friendly  ones  that 
sailed  together  that  day,  there  was  not  one  in 
whose  face  this  burdened  child  could  discern 
the  sympathy  she  needed,  not  one  to  whom  she 
dared  to  confide  her  sorrows,  not  one  to  tell 
her  of  the  infinite  compassion  of  a  loving  God, 
not  one  to  hold  her  back  from  the  consummation 
of  her  sad  design. 

"Alas !  for  the  rarity  of  Christian  charity, 

Under  the  sun ; 

Oh,  it  was  pitiful !  near  a  whole  city  full, 
Home  she  had  none." 

Shall  not  her  fate  be  a  solemn  warning  to 
young  and  unwary  girls  to  shun  the  flatteries 
and  avoid  the  traps  that  are  set  to  take  their 
feet?  And  shall  it  not  furnish  a  most  impres- 
ive  argument  to  persuade  us  to  work  while  the 
day  shall  last,  before  the  night  cometli  wherein 
no  work  can  be  done  ? 

And  if,  in  the  providence  of  God,  this  story 
should  fall  into  the  hands  of  some  poor  dejected 
child  of  sorrow  and  sin,  who  is  thinking  dark 
thoughts,  and  shuddering  on  the  verge  of  the 
abyss,  let  me  beg  you  to  stop  just  where  you 
are.  Do  not  rush  on  ; — do  not  brave  the  ter- 
rors of  the  judgment-throne.  There  is  a  better 
way  for  you, — a  way  of  hope  and  peace.  God 
D  97 


"  One   More    Unfortunate" 

in  heaven  looks  down  and  pities  you  to-day ; 
and  Jesus  Christ,  whose  blessed  feet  were 
bathed  by  the  tears  of  the  repentant  Mary ; 
whose  gracious  messages  fell  kindly  upon  the 
ears  of  the  outcast  and  the  sad ;  who  spoke  to 
the  lowest  and  the  vilest,  even  when  his  disci- 
ples "marvelled  that  he  talked  with  the  woman  ;" 
and  who  invited  publicans  and  harlots  to  that 
kingdom  which  Pharisees  were  -too  proud  to 
enter  or  accept; — that  Jesus  Christ  lives,  and 
loves,  and  pities  you  to-day;  you,  who  despise 
yourself,  and  curse  the  day  of  your  birth ;  you , 
who  are  hated,  and  outcast,  and  rejected  by 
those  who  have  trampled  you  down  to  the  gates 
of  hell,  when  they  might  have  lifted  you  up  to 
life  and  joy  and  peace ;  you  poor,  sad,  lonely, 
homeless,  stricken  one,  Jesus  pities  YOU. 

Do  not  despair  of  his  love  nor  of  his  grace. 
He  watches  you,  and  he  can  deliver  you.  And 
there  are  those  who  follow  him,  who  also  pity 
you,  and  would  gladly  lift  you  up.  Cry  to  the 
Lord  f  r  his  mercy  and  his  forgiveness.  Pray 
with  the  publican,  "God  be. merciful  to  me  a 
sinner."  Believe  in  Christ  as  your  Saviour 
and  your  friend,  and  he  can  bring  you  out  of  all 
3'our  distresses,  ransomed  and  restored. 

You  do  not  know  how  many  long  to  help 
you.  Little  did  this  poor  girl  imagine  that 

98 


"  One   More    Unfortunate" 

there  was  one  so  near  her  who  longed  to  com- 
fort and  lift  her  up  from  darkness  and  from 
death.  Had  she  waited ;  had  she  stayed  her 
rash  act,  she  might  have  been  saved.  And 
there  may  be  helpers  nearer  to  you  than  you 
imagine.  Do  not  despair.  Cry  to  God.  Some 
city  missionary,  some  tract  distributor,  some 
loving  Christian,  may  be  near  you.  Pray  God 
to  guide  you,  and  you  will  surely  find  some 
helper; — wait  for  his  providence,  and  he  will 
surely  send  relief.  He  knows  how  to  deliver 
you  from  the  snares  which  Satan  weaves  about 
the  victims  of  his  wiles,  and  so  surely  as  he 
sees  your  heart  is  turned  to  Him  he  will  be  your 
God  and  your  guide. 

"Come  now,  and  let  us  reason  together, 
saith  the  Lord  :  though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet, 
they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow ;  though  they  be 
red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool."  Isa. 
i.  18.  "If  we  confess  our  sins,  he  is  faithful 
and  just  to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and  to  cleanse 
us  from  all  unrighteousness."  1  John  i.  9. 

09 


No  person  not  born  or  reared  in  New  Eng- 
land can  well  understand  the  full  meaning  of 
"Thanksgiving  Day,"  especially  in  the  olden 
time.  But  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe  those 
who  remember  some  little  cottage  among  New 
England's  russet  hills  and  purple  forests  and 
rocky  fields  as  their  "old  home,"  can  never 
forget  the  pleasures  of  this  annual  festival — 
almost  the  only  one  in  the  year — which  came 
down  to  them  from  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  who 
landed  on  Plymouth  Rock. 

When  seed-time  and  harvest  had  come  and 
gone,  and  the  severer  labors  of  the  season  were 
accomplished,  then,  at  the  appointed  day,  the 
skillful  housewife,  gathering  the  choicest  prod- 
ucts of  the  farmer's  toil,  and  every  delicacy  of 
land  or  sea  which  she  could  command,  prepared 
a  bounteous  feast  to  which  all  the  members  of 
the  family,  old  and  young,  were  invited. 

Pleasant  gatherings  were  those.  The  grand- 
parents in  their  easy  chairs,  the  robust  men, 
with  the  unfashionably  healthy  women ;  the 
100 


My    Thanksgiving    Dinner. 

younger  heads  of  families,  with  the  little  ones 
who  perpetuated  the  paternal  stock  and  name  ; 
the  hardy  boys  and  happy  girls  who  laughed, 
and  romped,  and  played, — before  "boys  and 
girls "  gave  place  to  the  tobacco-using  dandies 
and  wasp-waisted  invalids  termed  ' '  young  gen- 
tlemen and  ladies,"  who  are  now  so  frequently 
seen — the  aunts,  and  uncles,  and  cousins,  who 
came  from  far  and  near ;  the  bluff  sailor  from 
beyond  the  seas,  and  the  city  relatives  who 
turned  their  faces  backward  to  the  scenes  of 
childhood  for  a  day, — all  these,  and  more, 
gathered  under  the  old  roof-tree,  where  thank- 
fulness, and  praise,  and  simple  mirth,  en- 
deared the  annual  festival  to  every  heart  and 
home.  Even  the  humble  dwellings  of  poverty 
were  not  without  their  festive  joys  on  "  thanks- 
giving day,"  and  kindly  hearts  took  care  that 
none  were  hungry  amid  the  plenty  that  sur- 
rounded them. 

And  though  many  things  have  changed  since 
those  olden  days,  yet  this  feast  is  still  observed, 
and  retains  something  of  its  ancient  interest ; 
and  on  one  occasion,  at  least,  it  is  associated  in 
my  own  mind  with  circumstances  so  pleasing 
that  I  have  felt  they  are  worthy  of  recital. 

In  the  summer  of  1861,  while  residing  in  the 
city  of  Providence,  I  heard  of  a  neighboring 

101 


My    Thanksgiving-  Dinner. 

family  who  were  said  to  be  in  straitened  cir- 
cumstances. The  matter  being  mentioned  to  the 
family,  one  of  our  helpers,  Miss  M.,  proposed 
to  call  on  them,  and  at  my  request  she  did  so, 
learned  their  history,  talked  and  prayed  with 
them,  and  returned  to  report  concerning  them. 

They  were  Scotch  people,  named  A ,  and 

they  said  they  had  lived  in  this  country  eight 
years,  and  Miss  M.  was  the  first  person  who 
had  ever  called  to  speak  to  them  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  hers  was  the  first  voice  that  had  been  raised 
in  prayer  beneath  their  roof  during  that  time. 
The  family  consisted  of  a  husband,  wife,  nine 
children,  and  a  homeless  Scotchman,  whom 
they,  with  the  pity  that  poverty  feels  for  pov- 
erty, had  taken  in  because  he  had  nowhere  else 
to  go.  Only  the  father  and  one  son  were  able 
to  do  much  for  the  support  of  the  family.  They 
worked  in  an  adjacent  mill,  but  their  small 
wages  could  hardly  fill  so  many  hungry  mouths. 

They  received  the  visit  kindly,  and  wept  as 
their  visitor  bore  their  case  in  prayer  before 
the  Lord  ;  and  on  her  return  we  endeavored  to 
send  them  something  for  their  pressing  needs  ; 
and  we  detected  another  of  our  helpers  almost 
as  poor  as  they,  spending  her  scanty  shillings 
for  five  loaves  of  bread  and  a  half  a  bushel  of 
potatoes,  which  she  ordered  the  market-man  to 

102 


My     Thanksgiving    Dinner. 

deliver  there  without  delay.  The  family  were 
induced  to  attend  public  worship,  and  the 
parents  made  profession  of  their  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ ;  a  cottage-meeting  was  held  weekly  in 
their  dwelling,  and  with  industry  and  economy 
they  were  made  quite  comfortable  until  autumn, 
when  work  became  scarce,  and  the  wolf  again 
looked  in  at  the  door. 

The  day  before  "Thanksgiving"  I  went  down 
to  see  them.  As  I  passed  along  the  street  I 
met  the  people  carrying  their  provisions  home, 
and  making  ready  for  the  coming  feast.  Al- 
most every  person  carried  a  turkey,  goose,  or 
chicken,  or  something  for  "  Thanksgiving  Day." 
It  was  noon,  and  as  I  came  to  their  door,  I 
heard  the  little  ones  begging  with  tears  and 
sobs  for  some  little  Indian  cakes  which  the 
mother  was  baking  on  the  stove. 

' '  Can't  I  have  another  cake  ?  " 

"Ye  canna  ha'  more,"  said  the  mother; 
"  there's  only  ane  apiece,  and  father  has  na' 
come  from  the  mill  yet,  and  there's  only  ane 
left  for  him." 

When  I  went  in  the  children  hushed  their 
clamor,  and  the  woman  apologized,  saying  : 

"  I  guess  you  think  my  children  are  making 
a  great  noise." 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  said,  "but  I  heard  them  ask 

103 


My     Thanksgiving    Dinner. 

you  for  another  cake,  and  I  heard  what  you 
said,  and  now  I  want  to  know  if  this  is  all  you 
have?" 

She  hesitated  a  little,  and  said,  "  I  nae  like 
to  tell ;  but  sin'  ye  ha'  asked  me  the  question 
I'll  tell  ye  :  this  is  the  last  mouthfu' — but  the 
Lord  will  send  us  more." 

I  remained  a  few  moments  and  lifted  up  my 
heart  to  God.  The  father  came  in,  and  feeling 
unwilling  to  remain  longer  a  witness  of  their 
poverty,  I  retired,  and  went  home  thinking 
how  many  hundreds  and  thousands  around  me 
were  supplied  with  everything  that  luxury  and 
extravagance  could  desire,  while  here  were 
industrious,  honest  people,  hungry  for  want  of 
the  plainest  food. 

On  my  way  home  these  words  came  to  my 
mind,  "  When  thou  makest  a  dinner  or  a  sup- 
per, call  not  thy  friends,  nor  thy  brethren, 
neither  thy  kinsmen,  nor  thy  rich  neighbors ; 
lest  they  also  bid  thee  again,  and  a  recompense 
be  made  thee.  But  when  thou  makest  a  feast, 
call  the_poor,  the  maimed,  the  lame,  the  blind ; 
and  thou  shalt  be  blessed :  for  they  cannot 
recompense  thee  :  for  thou  shalt  be  recompensed 
at  the  resurrection  of  the  just."  Luke  xiv.  12- 
14.  I  thought  then  that  I  would  make  a  feast, 
and  call  in  this  hungry  family,  and  also  an  Irish 

104 


My    Thanksgiving  Dinner. 

woman  who  did  our  washing,  who  had  two 
children,  and  whose  husband  was  dying  of  con- 
sumption . 

But  I  had  no  money  to  spare  to  make  a  feast, 
even  for  myself;  my  husband  was  hundreds  of 
miles  away,  preaching  in  western  New  York  : 
our  friends  around  us  were  few  and  poor,  and 
I  could  only  look  to  God  in  time  of  need.  But 
I  knew  that  He  knew  these  persons  were  desti- 
tute, and  it  was  long  since  some  of  them  had 
had  a  comfortable  meal ;  and  I  knew  that  it  was 
according  to  Scripture  to  feed  the  hungry,  and 
my  heavenly  Father  knew  my  motives,  and  I 
had  perfect  confidence  to  trust  in  him,  and  I 
said  in  my  heart,  "  I  will  make  a  feast."  So  I 
prayed  the  Lord  to  give  me  the  means  to  pro- 
vide a  dinner  for  these  poor  families. 

There  was  a  wealthy  man  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, Mr.  S.,  a  president  of  a  bank,  whom  I 
had  never  spoken  to  but  once  or  twice,  and  I 
asked  the  Lord  to  put  it  into  his  heart  to  send 
me  a  turkey  for  the  feast ;  and  before  I  reached 
home  I  felt  he  would  surely  hear  my  prayer. 

On  entering  the  house  I  said  to  my  husband's 
mother,  "  Mother,  I  am  going  to  have  a  present 
of  a  turkey." 

She  laughed  at   the    suggestion,   and   said: 
"Who  is  going  to  give  you  a  turkey?  " 
105 


My    Th  a  n  ksgiv  ing   D  in  ner. 

"Mr.  S.,"  I  replied. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?     Have  you  seen  him  ?" 

"  No,"  said  I ;  "  but  I  have  been  asking  the 
Lord  to  impress  his  mind  to  send  me  a  turkey 
to  make  a  Thanksgiving  dinner." 

"  Well,  I'm  afraid  you  won't  get  your  turkey 
this  year ;  I  guess  we  shall  have  to  make  our 
thanksgiving  dinner  of  potatoes  and  bread." 

"Yes,  I'm  going  to  have  a  turkey,"  I  con- 
tinued ;  but  she  remained  incredulous  still. 

Evening  came,  and  I  had  neither  turkey  nor 
vegetables,  except  potatoes,  and  I  went  up  into 
my  chamber  to  ask  the  Lord  again  to  answer 
my  prayer,  and  felt  that  he  would  grant  my 
request. 

While  I  was  praying  there  was  a  rap  at  the 
front  door ;  my  little  boy  ran  to  answer  the  call, 
and  as  he  opened  the  door  saw  a  turkey  hang- 
ing from  the  door-knob,  and  a  boy  running  at 
full  speed  down  the  street. 

"  Who  sent  this  ?  "  said  Johnnie. 

"  I  was  told  not  to  tell,"  said  the  boy  ;  and 
away  he  ran,  carrying  another  turkey  and  two 
chickens  in  his  hands. 

I  came  down  stairs  feeling  that  all  was  right, 
and  mother  said,  "  Hattie,  your  present  has 
come, — here  is  your  turkey." 

I  said,  "  Thank  the  Lord  ;  I  knew  it  would 

106 


'SEE,  WHAT  A  FAITHFUL  GOD  WE  HAVE!  " 


Page  107. 


My     Thanksgiving    Dinner. 

come."  On  looking  at  it  I  saw  that  it  was 
abundantly  large  for  our  family,  yet  it  would 
not  furnish  a  meal  for  the  "multitude"  that  I 
desired  to  invite  to  my  feast,  and  I  said,  "  I'm 
afraid  that  it  isn't  enough.  I  must  have  an- 
other." 

"Well,"  said  mother,  "I  shall  not  say  any- 
thing more  about  it ;  I  guess  you'll  get  your 
dinner." 

I  Avent  up  stairs  and  told  the  Lord  I  wanted 
another  turkey,  and  some  vegetables  also,  for 
my  feast.  While  I  was  praying  I  heard  a 
wagon  pass  down  our  street ;  and  before  I  had 
finished  I  heard  a  heavy  rap  at  the  kitchen  door, 
which  opened,  and  I  heard  the  heavy  fall  of 
something  on  the  floor.  I  knew  that  the  other 
turkey  had  come  :  and  hurrying  down  stairs  I 
saw  a  fifteen-pound  turkey  on  the  kitchen  floor  ; 
while  as  I  looked  out  of  the  door  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  retreating  form  of  our  good 
neighbor,  Brother  Case,  who  was  laughing 
heartily,  and  travelling  for  home  as  if  he  did 
not  mean  to  let  his  left  hand  know  what  his 
right  hand  had  been  doing. 

"There,  mother,"  said  I,  as  I  carried  my 
present  in,  "  see  what  a  faithful  God  we  have  ;" 
and  I  rejoiced  with  solemn  awe  at  such  visible 
manifestations  of  his  power  and  providence. 

107 


My  Thanksgiving  Dinner. 

Pretty  soon  Mrs.  M.,  who  was  to  have  been 
invited  to  the  feast,  came  in  with  her  face 
wreathed  with  smiles,  saying,  "  I  have  come  in 
to  tell  you  what  a  present  I  have  had.  Mr.  S. 
has  sent  me  a  turkey  and  two  chickens  for 
Thanksgiving.  Don't  you  think  he  was  kind?" 

"  Who  did  he  send  them  by  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  A  little  boy  brought  them." 

"There,"  said  I,  "that  is  the  very  man  that 
sent  me  a  turkey.  I  have  been  praying  to  the 
Lord  for  something  to  make  a  dinner  of,  and 
was  going  to  ask  you  to  come  over.  But  you 
seem  to  be  provided  for." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  she  thankfully,  "and  this 
isn't  all ;  other  things  have  been  sent,  and  I  am 
well  supplied." 

The  next  morning,  Jenny,  our  house  girl, 
was  astir  bright  and  early,  full  of  sympathy  for 
the  poor,  and  went  to  the  house  of  Mrs.  R., 
the  washer-woman,  to  invite  them  to  the  feast, 
while  I  went  to  Mr.  A.'s  and  informed  them  of 
the  plan.  The  children  were  full  of  glee,  and 
the  parents  were  glad,  and  told  IIOAV  badly  they 
had  felt  to  see  others  supplied  with  every  lux- 
ury, while  their  children  cried  in  vain  for  bread. 

We  went  home  and  prepared  the  dinner. 
They  came  with  clean  faces,  and  dressed  in  their 
best — which  was  poor  enough — but  the  mother 
108 


My  Thanksgiving  Dinner. 

had  stripped  the  children,  and  washed  and  dried 
their  clothes,  and  made  them  quite  presentable 
for  the  dinner  hour — two  o'clock  P.  M. 

We  had  room  for  all,  and  our  house  was 
"  filled  with  guests,"  for  none  of  them  "  began 
to  make  excuses "  when  we  called  them ;  and 
after  giving  thanks  to  God  for  his  abundant 
goodness,  we  carved  the  food  and  fed  the  hungry 
company.  And  such  ravenous  appetites  !  The 
old  folks  talked  and  laughed,  and  told  stories 
of  their  younger  days,  and  said  it  seemed  the 
most  like  "Auld  Scotland"  of  anything  they 
had  seen  in  this  country ;  wrhile  the  children  sat 
in  silence,  behaving  as  well  as  need  be,  but 
making  remarkably  quick  work  with  the  pro- 
visions which  were  heaped  upon  their  plates. 
It  was  a  pleasure  to  see  them  eat,  and  I  enjoyed 
it  quite  as  much  as  they  did. 

"  Oh,  mother,"  said  one  laborious  little  five- 
year-old,  "I  feel  as  if  I  should  split !  " 

We  laughed,  and  the  mother  said,  "  My 
child,  what  makes  ye  eat  sae  much,  if  ye  dinna 
want  it?" 

"  'Cause  she  keeps  putting  it  on  my  plate," 
said  the  little  fellow. 

I  told  him  he  need  not  eat  any  more  than  he 
wanted,  and  he  seemed  quite  relieved  when  he 
found  he  had  permission  to  stop. 

109 


My   Thanksgiving  Dinner. 

When  all  were  fed  we  adjourned  to  the  library, 
and  spent  the  afternoon  in  reading  and  prayer, 
and  in  listening  to  pleasant  tales  of  "Auld 
Scotia,"  till  at  an  early  hour  they  took  their 
leave,  and  the  happy  day  was  done.  The 
smallest  turkey  was  left,  and  we  had  that  for 
our  thanksgiving  feast  the  following  day. 

On  the  forenoon  of  thanksgiving  day,  Bro. 
Case  came  in  and  I  told  him  how  the  Lord 
had  heard  my  prayers.  Then  ho  told  me  how 
he  came  to  purchase  the  larger  turkey. 

"  I  was  going  down  this  street  last  night," 
said  he,  "  and  I  saw  a  team  coming  down  past 
your  house,  loaded  with  poultry  for  the  market. 
The  thought  came  to  me,  'I  will  inquire  the 
price  of  that  poultry ;  may  be  I  can  get  some 
cheaper  than  I  could  down  town  ; '  for  poultry 
was  so  dear  I  had  concluded  to  go  without  a 
thanksgiving  turkey.  I  found  that  he  was 
selling  out  cheap,  as  it  was  late,  and  he  feared 
he  might  have  difficulty  in  disposing  of  them. 
After  I  had  bought  a  turkey  for  myself,  the 
team  moved  on.  As  I  was  standing  nearly 
opposite  your  gate,  the  thought  came  to  me 
that  I  did  not  believe  anybody  had  given  you  a 
turkey,  so  I  hailed  the  man  and  bought  another 
turkey,  and  gave  you  the  biggest  one." 

I  thanked  him,  and  told  him  what  wras  to  be 
no 


My  Thanksgiving  Dinner. 

done  with  it.  He  seemed  pleased  with  the  way 
that  things  had  been  brought  about,  and  could 
not  fail  to  mark  the  Providence  which  had  sent 
the  team  down  an  unfrequented  street  with 
hardly  a  house  upon  it,  just  at  the  moment  I 
was  praying  about  that  very  thing. 

A  few  weeks  afterwards  Miss  S.  called  at 
our  house,  and  I  thought  I  would  like  to  know 
if  her  father  did  really  send  the  turkey  ;  and 
thinking  I  could  find  out  by  asking,  even  if  she 
did  not  answer,  I  said  : 

"Did  your  father  send  me  a  turkey  for 
Thanksgiving  ?  " 

"My  father!"  said  she,  blushing,  "why 
should  you  think  my  father  would  send  you  a 
turkey?" 

"Because  I  have  reasons; — didn't  he  send 
me  a  turkey  for  Thanksgiving  ?  " 

"  You  will  have  to  ask  him,"  said  she,  with 
an  arch  look  which  satisfied  me  that  the  Lord 
had  heard  my  prayers  ; — but  I  have  never  seen 
the  old  gentleman  to  ask  the  question  since. 
I  have,  however,  known  enough  of  God's  kind 
providence  to  be  convinced  that  he  will  hear 
the  poor  and  the  needy  when  they  cry,  and 
glorify  himself  in  providing  for  their  wants. 

This  little  incident  is  but  one  of  many  which 
I  have  known  that  illustrate  the  truth  of  the 
in 


My  Thanksgiving  Dinner. 

care  of  God  for  the  poor,  and  his  care  for  others 
who  consider  and  assist  them  in  their  necessity, 
if  they  trust  in  him  and  seek  to  glorify  his  name. 
Many  a  time  has  the  Lord  listened  to  the  cries 
of  his  little  ones  in  the  time  of  perplexity,  and 
trial,  and  many  an  answer  of  peace  and  help 
have  we  received  from  his  gracious  hand,  both 
for  ourselves  and  for  others  who  were  in  need. 

Some  time  after  this,  in- the  year  1867,  I  had 
another  experience  of  God's  provide  nee.  AVe 
were  residing  in  the  city  of  L.,  and  one  of  our 
nearest  neighbors,  who  had  been  very  kind  and 
friendly  to  us,  a  widow  woman  with  two  sons, 
whose  husband  had  died  from  a  disease  con- 
tracted in  the  war,  came  to  me  in  great  trouble, 
telling  me  that  the  landlord  had  sold  the  house 
she  lived  in  over  her  head,  and  she  had  only 
three  days'  time  to  get  out  of  the  house.  There 
were  no  desirable  tenements  to  be  had  at  that 
season  of  the  year,  and  what  to  do  she  did  not 
know. 

As  I  could  not  see  a  neighbor  turned  into 
the  street,  I  took  the  family  into  my  own  cot- 
tage, and  stowed  their  goods  away  as  well  as  I 
could;  not,  however,  without  considerable  in- 
convenience ;  and  then  we  considered  what  had 
better  be  done.  She  wished  to  keep  her  family 
together,  and  out  of  evil  associations ;  rents 

112 


My  Thanksgiving'  Dinner. 

were  high,  and  she  did  not  succeed  in  getting 
any  place,  and  was  in  much  perplexity. 

One  day  she  came  to  me  weeping,  and  asked 
my  advice  about  building  a  house.  There  was 
a  lot  near  by  she  could  get  on  a  long  credit, 
and  she  wanted  to  know  if  I  thought  she  could 
build.  I  told  her  we  would  pray  over  the 
matter,  and  ask  counsel  of  the  Lord  and  see 
what  he  would  do.  She  had  no  money,  and  I 
had  none,  and  my  husband  was  in  no  condition 
to  render  aid  in  the  matter ;  but  I  knew  that 
there  was  One  who  had  promised  to  be  "a 
father  of  the  fatherless  and  a  judge  of  widows," 
who  owned  the  earth  and  the  fullness  thereof, 
and  the  cattle  upon  a  thousand  hills,  and  who 
was  able  to  provide  the  means  to  build,  if  it 
was  his  will  that  the  work  should  go  forward. 
I  knew  also  that  he  had  faithful  children  who 
knew  the  Shepherd's  voice,  and  would  obey  his 
direction,  if  he  laid  upon  them  the  duty  of  aid- 
ing in  the  work.  So  I  asked  the  Lord, — if  it 
was  his  will  that  I  should  go  on  and  build  that 
house,  and  if  he  would  provide  the  means,  so 
that  I  could  complete  it  without  embarrassing 
my  husband  or  becoming  involved  in  debt, — to 
send  me  fifty  dollars  as  a  sign  that  I  should  go 
forward  with  the  wrork. 

About  this  time  I  attended  a  camp-meeting, 
113 


My  Thanksgiving  Dinner. 

and  falling  in  with  a  Christian  brother,  Mr.  L., 
who  was  engaged  in  the  lumber  business,  I 
consulted  with  him  as  to  the  cost  of  materials 
for  the  building,  and  told  him  what  I  desired  to 
do.  Other  friends  overheard  the  conversation, 
and  were  surprised  at  my  project,  wondering 
why  I  should  undertake  such  a  thing. 

I  did  nothing  for  the  time,  but  kept  praying. 
By  and  by  my  husband  brought  me  a  letter 
containing  ten  dollars  from  sister  L.  of  S.,  with 
whom  I  had  talked  of  my  plan  when  at  the 
meeting.  This  money  I  laid  aside  for  the  house. 
One  day  I  went  with  my  husband  to  Boston, 
and  called  on  a  Miss  O.  While  conversing 
with  her  on  the  subject  of  my  thoughts,  she 
said,  "I  am  glad  you  came;  I  have  twenty 
dollars,  and  I  have  been  asking  the  Lord  what 
to  do  with  it,  and  I  will  give  it  to  you  to  help 
that  widow  woman."  I  told  her  perhaps  she 
had  better  keep  it  and  pray  over  the  matter, 
till  she  was  fully  satisfied  what  the  Lord  would 
have  her  do,  and  then  if  she  felt  it  duty  she 
could  send  it  to  me,  as  I  did  not  wish  to  take 
it  unless  she  was  sure  it  was  the  will  of  God 
that  I  should  have  it.  She  waited  and  prayed, 
but  could  not  keep  the  money,  and,  I  think,  the 
next  day  brought  it  to  the  Tract  Repository, 
and  gave  it  to  my  husband  to  bring  to  me  for 
114 


My  Thanksgiving  Dinner. 

the  house.  From  various  other  sources  money 
kept  coming  in  to  me  to  be  used  at  my  discre- 
tion, some  of  it  from  persons  who  knew  nothing 
of  my  plan,  until  I  had  a  hundred  dollars  on 
hand. 

I  then  felt  that  it  was  time  to  ' '  arise  and 
build."  The  land  was  purchased,  and  I  ordered 
Brother  L.  to  send  mo  a  car-load  of  lumber. 
It  came ;  carpenters  and  workmen  Avere  en- 
gaged, and  the  work  pushed  forward  with  all 
convenient  haste.  It  was  not,  however,  finished 
without  some  trials,  both  of  faith  and  patience  ; 
but  through  them  all  the  Lord  was  pleased  to 
be  our  helper  and  our  trust. 

While  the  building  progressed,  I  at  one  time 
needed  a  hundred  dollars,  which  I  prayed  the 
Lord  that  a  certain  man,  Brother  F.,  might 
lend  to  me  ;  and  soon  after  I  attended  a  meet- 
ing in  the  city  where  he  lived,  where  I  met  his 
wife,  who  said  to  me  when  we  met,  and  before 
I  had  an  opportunity  to  so  much  as  intimate  my 
desire,  "  Oh,  sister  II.,  you  are  just  the  one  I 
wanted  to  see  ;  I  want  to  know  if  you  have  not 
been  needing  some  money.  I  have  felt  so 
uneasy  about  you  for  three  weeks,  that  I  haven't 
taken  any  comfort,  aad  I  told  Mr.  F.  he  must 
send  you  some  money,  for  I  knew  that  you 
were  needing  some." 

115 


My   Thanksgiving  Dinner. 

"I  wrote  you  a  letter  yesterday,"  said  I; 
"  have  n't  you  received  it?" 

Mr.  F.  said,  "No;  I  haven't  been  to  the 
office,  but  I  will  go  over  now  and  get  it." 

He  went,  and  found  the  letter  in  which  I  had 
asked  him  for  the  loan,  which  was  gladly 
granted,  and  I  was  told  not  to  trouble  myself 
about  repaying  it  at  present. 

So  the  work  went  on ;  in  a  few  weeks  the 
house  wras  finished  and  occupied ;  the  bills  set- 
tled, the  deficiencies  temporarily  provided  for, 
and  I  had  a  new  lesson  of  trust,  which  was  to 
be  profitable  to  me  in  the  midst  of  the  care  and 
trials  of  the  days  that  were  to  come,  and  which 
has  since  encouraged  my  heart  when  other 
burdens  were  laid  upon  my  shoulders,  and 
other  labors  occupied  my  hands. 
116 


TWO  SUITS  OF  CLOTHES. 


BY    II.    L.    HASTINGS. 


"Trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  good ;  so  shalt 
thou  dwell  in  the  land,  and  verily  thou  shalt  be 
fed."  God's  word  joins  together  precept  and 
promise,  obedience  and  blessing.  It  is  not, 
"Trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  evil"  nor  is  it, 
"Trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  nothing ,"  as  some 
would  seem  to  think;  but  it  is,  "Trust  in  the 
Lord  and  do  good ;  so  shalt  thou  dwell  in  the 
land,  and  verily  thou  shalt  be  fed." 

And  yet  just  here  unbelief  steps  in  with  varied 
arguments.  To  trust  in  God  and  do  nothing 
is  presumption  ;  and  M'hen  those  who  try  it,  fail 
in  the  attempt,  the  unbeliever  taunts  them  with 
the  worthlessness  of  faith.  On  the  other  hand, 
when  those  who  trust  in  God  are  yet  active  and 
diligent  in  labor,  the  logic  of  unbelief  leaves 
God  out  of  the  result,  and  says  it  is  all  by  nat- 
ural laws,  good  calculation,  and  hard  work. 
And  even  some  who  are  sincerely  following 
Christ,  being  too  unmindful  of  the  gracious  prov- 
idence of  God,  are  led  to  question  the  special 
guidance  of  his  hand,  under  circumstances  where 
117 


Tivo  Suits  of  Clothes. 

a  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  all  the  facts 
would  put  these  questionings  and  doubts  to 
flight,  and  lead  them  to  the  childlike  confidence 

O         7 

of  simple  faith. 

Some  thoughts  of  this  description,  expressed 
by  an  esteemed  friend,  and  coming  to  the  writer 
in  a  day  of  special  depression,  led  him  to  turn 
his  mind  backward  over  the  experiences  of  the 
past,  and  recall  some  of  the  tokens  of  providen- 
tial mercy  which  had  marked  a  checkered  life. 

Mentioning  the  subject  to  a  Christian  lady  of 
his  acquaintance,  the  following  story  was  told 
in  reply : 

"In  the  autumn  or  winter  of  1860,  we  lived  in 
the  city  of  Providence,  and  I  was  able  to  devote 
a  portion  of  my  time  to  laboring  among  the  poor 
of  the  city.  One  day  while  out  upon  this  errand, 
I  entered  a  large,  old  tenement-house,  inhab- 
ited by  a  number  of  poor  families.  In  one  of 
these  tenements  I  found  a  woman  and  seven 
little  children.  The  woman  seemed  to  be  one 
who  had  seen  better  days,  but  by  disappoint- 
ment the  family  had  been  reduced  to  poverty, 
and  her  husband,  becoming  discouraged,  had 
taken  to  the  bottle  to  drown  his  sorrows.  This, 
of  course,  had  produced  still  greater  wretched- 
ness. 

*'I  invited  the  children  to  Sunday-school,  and 

118 


Two  Suits  of  Clothes. 

the  parents  to  meeting.  They  replied  that  they 
had  no  clothes  fit  to  wear.  I  inquired  if  they 
would  go  if  clothes  could  be  provided  for  them  : 
the  wife  and  children  promised  that  they  would. 
And  the  wife  thought  that  her  husband  would 
go  also,  if  raiment  was  provided.  I  talked  and 
prayed  with  them,  and  left  them  with  a  promise 
that  I  would  see  what  could  be  done  for  them, 
and  call  again. 

"My  acquaintance  in  the  city  was  small,  and 
mostly  among  the  poor  of  this  world ;  and  we 
had  already  clothed  so  many  for  our  Sunday- 
school  that  hardly  a  spare  garment  could  be 
found.  I  called  upon  some  of  the  more  wealthy 
people  of  the  city,  but  no  one  seemed  to  have 
much  to  bestow,  and  I  returned  to  my  home. 

"My  husband  was  absent  preaching  the  gospel 
of  Christ.  He  had  only  two  suits  of  clothes, 
and  both  of  them  were  well  worn.  One  suit  he 
wore  away,  the  other  was  hanging  in  the  closet 
at  home.  The  words  of  the  Saviour  came  to 
my  mind,  'He  that  hath  two  coats,  let  him  im- 
part to  him  that  hath  none'  (Luke  iii.  11),  and 
I  determined  to  obey  the  command.  I  took  the 
clothes  and  told  my  family  what  I  intended  to 
do,  and  asked  them  what  they  thought  of  it.  I 
found  out  what  they  thought  very  soon.  'I 
think.'  said  one,  a  relative  and  visitor  there, 

119 


Two  Suits  of  Clothes. 

'you  must  be  crazy.  If  your  head  wasn't  tied 
to  your  body  you  would  give  that  away.  I 
should  hardly  think  you  would  dare  to  give 
them  away  without  your  husband's  consent,  for 
fear  he  would  be  displeased.'  I  told  them  I 
was  not  afraid  of  that,  for  he  and  I  were  agreed 
in  trusting  God,  and  whatever  I  felt  was  duty 
he  would  say  Amen  to ;  and  besides,  we  had  a 
rich  Father  who  knew  all  our  needs. 

"They,  however,  had  no  faith  in  such  pro- 
ceedings ;  they  believed  that  God  helped  those 
that  helped  themselves ;  my  husband  was  poor 
and  needed  the  clothes  himself;  charity  began 
at  home  ;  and  there  was  an  almshouse  provided 
for  such  people  as  those  were.  I  told  them  that 
no  one  else  might  look  after  their  souls'  inter- 
ests, and  I  felt  that  God  had  laid  it  upon  me  to 
do  this  work,  and  it  must  be  done.  He  knew 
all  I  needed,  and  was  abundantly  able  to 
provide. 

"I  stopped  no  longer  to  confer  with  flesh  and 
blood,  but  taking  my  husband's  coat,  pantaloons, 
vest,  shirt,  stockings,  and  boots,  I  took  also 
from  my  own  scanty  wardrobe  a  bonnet,  shawl, 
dress,  etc.,  for  the  woman,  and  a  suit  of  my 
little  boy's  clothes  for  one  of  the  children.  I 
made  them  up  in  a  parcel  and  carried  them  my- 
self to  the  dwelling  of  the  poor  family. 
120 


Two  Suits  of  Clothes. 

"It  was  in  the  evening,  and  the  husband  was 
at  home.  I  asked  him  to  try  on  the  boots,  and 
they  fitted  exactly.  The  man  seemed  very 
thankful,  and  said  he  was  glad  that  there  was 
one  Christian  in  the  city,  for  he  had  been  nigh 
discouraged,  and  had  thought  that  there  were 
none.  His  voice  trembled  with  emotion,  and 
his  eyes  filled  with  tears,  as  I  talked  to  him  and 
told  him  that  there  were  other  sympathizing 
Christians  there  who  would  gladly  lend  him  a 
helping  hand ;  and  I  invited  him  to  come  out  to 
meeting.  He  promised  to  come.  I  told  the 
children  to  come  to  my  house  the  following  day, 
and  I  would  see  what  I  could  do  for  them.  The 
wife  followed  me  to  the  door,  deeply  affected, 
and  said  it  was  the  first  time  she  had  seen  her 
husband  weep  or  show  any  sign  of  feeling  for  a 
/ong  while.  He  had  seemed  very  much  hard- 
ened, and  had  sneered  at  religion  and  those  who 
professed  it ;  until  now  it  seemed  that  God  had 
softened  his  heart.  I  left  her  and  returned 
home,  satisfied  that  I  had  done  right,  and  feel- 
ing the  richer  for  it. 

"On  reaching  home,  I  found  the  family  busily 
engaged  in  opening  and  inspecting  a  box  that 
had  been  brought  to  me  by  express,  from  a  dis- 
tant place.  On  examining  the  contents,  I  found 
a  number  of  suits  of  clothes,  enough,  with  what 

121 


Two  Suits  of  Cluthes. 

I  had  carried,  to  fit  out  all  the  children  who 
were  old  enough  to  attend  Sunday-school,  a  new 
suit  for  my  little  boy,  and  a  good,  new  dress, 
which  I  was  directed  to  keep  for  my  own  use. 
This  arrival  produced  a  change  in  the  atmos 
phere,  and  some  were  ready  to  admit  that  the 
Lord  had  repaid  that  which  I  had  lent  to  him. 

"The  next  day  the  children  came  and  ob- 
tained their  garments,  and  were  fitted  out  with 
sufficient  clothes  for  Sunday-school,  excepting 
two  cloaks, which  were  afterwards  procured  from 
another  source ;  and  so  the  family  were  ready 
for  meeting.  The  next  Sunday  the  husband 
came  to  meeting,  and  the  children,  bright  and 
happy,  came  to  Sunday-school.  You  ought  to 
have  seen  their  faces  shine  as  they  came  in. 

"In  the  evening  the  wife  came  with  her  hus- 
band, and  the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks 
while  she  publicly  confessed  her  desire  to  follow 
and  obey  the  Lord. 

"My  husband  had  come  home  in  the  mean 
time,  and  I  told  him  what  I  had  done  ;  and  h< 
said,  'It  is  all  right.'  I  went  and  told  my  visit- 
ing relative  of  it,  who  replied,  'Yes,  you,  both 
of  you,  wrill  give  awa}r  all  you  have  got.'  I  said, 
4The  Lord  is  able  to  give  my  husband  a  new 
suit  of  clothes  before  Saturday  night.'  'You 
don't  know  that,'  was  the  reply.  I  Jaid  the 

122 


"  A    CHANGE    IN'    THE    ATMOSPHERE." 


Page  122. 


Tivo  Suits  of  Clothes. 

matter  before  the  Lord  in  prayer,  and  asked  Goa 
to  glorify  his  own  name,  and  let  it  be  known 
that  there  was  a  God  who  knew  his  children's 
needs. 

"Near  the  end  of  the  week  my  husband  went 
to  the  post-office,  and  returned  Avith  a  letter 

from  W ,  Conn.,  informing  him  that  they 

had  measured  a  man  there  who  had  formerly 
tried  on  his  coat  when  he  was  preaching  there, 
and  they  had  prepared  him  a  suit  of  clothes, 
which  were  ready  for  him  whenever  he  would 
come  that  way  ;  or  they  would  send  them  by  ex- 
press to  his  order  at  once.  He  called  me  into 
the  library  and  read  me  the  letter,  and  I  carried 
it  and  read  it  before  the  family. 

"The  clothes  came  in  due  time,  and  fitted 
well,  and  were  a  good  deal  better  than  those 
that  were  given  away." 

This  was  the  lady's  story  ;  and  the  writer  can 
vouch  for  its  essential  fact.s,  for  he  wore  the  new 
suit  of  clothes  himself. 

123 


LENT  AND  PAID  AGAIN. 


BY    AUNT   ABBY. 


Borrowing  and  lending  are  universal  sources 
of  supply  and  gain.  There  are  few  who  never 
wish  to  borrow,  and  few  who  are  not  sometimes 
able  to  lend.  But  yet  great  trouble  and  dissatis- 
faction often  result  from  these  transactions. 
Securities  given  for  repayment  sometimes  prove 
worthless,  and  loans  meant  to  be  temporary 
prove  permanent  and  entirely  unproductive. 
Every  thing  human  is  uncertain,  and  it  is  well 
for  us  while  heeding  the  command,  *'Give  to 
him  that  asketh  thee,  and  from  him  that  would 
boiTow  of  thee  turn  not  thou  away,"  to  remem- 
ber also  that  we  are  to  "lend,  hoping  for  nothing 
again,"  for  it  is  only  in  this  way  that  we  can 
secure  ourselves  from  vexation  and  disappoint- 
ment. 

There  is,  however,  one  mode  of  investment 
which  is  absolutely  secure ;  for  an  immutable 
word  has  recorded  that  "He  that  hath  pity  upon 
the  poor,  lendeth  unto  the  Lord  ;  and  that  which 
he  hath  given  will  he  pay  him  again  ;"  and,  little 
as  the  worldly-wise  may  count  this  promise 
124 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

worth,  it  stands,  and  will  stand,  when  bonds 
and  stocks  and  notes  and  securities  topple  like 
falling  walls,  or  collapse  like  broken  bubbles. 
The  Lord  will  not  suffer  his  word  to  fail. 
Though  our  judgment  may  be  imperfect,  our 
confidence  sometimes  misplaced,  and  our  efforts 
to  do  good  lavished  upon  those  who  do  not  seem 
to  be  profited,  still  our  faithful,  well  intended 
service,  done  for  the  sake  of  Christ,  even  to  the 
evil  and  the  unthankful ,  while  it  may  accomplish 
little  more  than  to  teach  us  lessons  of  needful 
circumspection,  will  yet  be  remembered  and  re- 
warded by  the  Lord,  for  whose  sake  it  was 
done. 

In  the  summer  of  1862,  the  providence  of 
God  directed  my  weary  footsteps  to  the  dwell- 
ing of  some  Christian  friends  named  H , 

who  were  endeavoring  to  serve  their  generation 
by  the  will  of  God  in  the  diffusion  of  light  and 
truth,  and  in  active  efforts  to  win  the  perishing 
to  Christ.  The  family  was  large,  numbering 
some  twelve  or  fourteen,  including  an  aged 
grandmother,  her  son,  his  wife  and  two  children, 
and  various  other  persons  cast  upon  their  hands 
by  the  providence  of  God  for  refuge  and  for 
training,  or  employed  by  them  as  helpers  in  the 
various  departments  of  Christian  labor  carried 
on  in  the  building,  including  the  setting  of  type, 

125 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

the  folding  and  stitching  of  tracts,  and  other 
callings  which  seemed  to  promise  good  to  man- 
kind. 

The  delicate  health  of  their  oldest  son,  a  lad 
of  about  seven  years  old,  rendering  it  needful 
that  he  should  have  out-door  exercise,  I,  at  the 

request  of  Mr.  H ,  undertook  to  accompany 

him  in  morning  walks,  both  for  his  benefit  and 
my  own ;  and  our  second  walk  was  the  occa- 
sion of  some  adventures  \vhich  I  will  now  relate. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  the  twenty-sixth  of 
June,  1862,  as  I  find  by  reference  to  my  jour- 
nal, that  I  waked  my  little  companion,  and 
took  my  way  to  a  neighboring  hill-top,  crowned 
by  a  lofty  granite  monument,  erected  in  com- 
memoration of  the  battle  of  Bunker  hill.  As- 
cending the  stone  steps,  we  stood  upon  the 
memorable  field,  once  slippery  with  the  gore  of 
valiant  men,  but  now  quiet  in  the  peaceful 
glory  of  the  coming  dawn.  Brushing  away  the 
dew  from  one  of  the  seats,  we  sat  down ;  I  to 
read  a  book  which  I  had  brought  along,  and 
my  little  friend  to  view  the  morning  glow  that 
flushed  the  eastern  sky,  and  to  watch  the  sun 
ascending  over  the  hilly  shores  of  the  dark 
Atlantic  before  us. 

Presently  the  little  boy  spoke  up,  "Oh,  Aunt 
Abby,  here  comes  an  old  beggar  woman !"  and 

126 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

on  looking  up  I  saw  a  woman  clad  in  poor  and 
ragged  clothes,  her  head  covered  with  an  old, 
uncomfortable  hood,  and  her  sore  and  blistered 
feet  protruding  through  her  worn-out  shoes 
and  stockings. 

The  wretched-looking  creature  approached, 
and  bidding  us  good-morning,  asked  if  we  could 
give  her  a  few  cents,  with  which  she  might  buy 
some  breakfast.  I  replied  that  we  had  no  money, 
and,  wondering  at  her  early  appearance  and  her 
poverty,  I  asked  her  where  she  stayed  the  night 
before.  After  some  hesitation  she  told  me  that 
she  had  come  to  Boston,  hoping  to  meet  her  hus- 
band, who  was  on  board  a  United  States  vessel ; 
and,  failing  to  meet  him  in  the  city,  she  had 
spent  the  day  in  vainly  seeking  for  employment, 
and  at  night  had  been  forced  to  take  refuge  in 
the  watch-house,  from  which  she  had  just 
emerged,  hoping  to  obtain  some  food,  and  then 
to  pursue  her  search  for  employment  again. 

As  she  finished  her  story,  the  little  boy  at 
my  side  pulled  my  dress,  and  whispered,  "Take 
her  home  with  you,  Aunt,  and  I'll  give  her 
my  breakfast ;  and  mother  or  you,  perhaps,  will 
have  a  pair  of  better  shoes  for  her  than  those." 
I  said,  ''Well,  I  guess  we  will,  if  she  would  like 
to  go  with  us ;"  and  receiving  her  assent  to  the 
proposal,  we  started  for  home. 
127 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

Passing  down  the  bill,  we  reached  Main  street 
as  the  people  were  beginning  to  take  down  their 
shutters  and  open  their  shops  :  and  ourselves 
and  company  attracted  quite  as  much  attention 
as  was  agreeable  to  me.  Shrinking  from  an 
unpleasant  publicity,  I  thought  of  telling  my 
little  companion  to  run  on  before  with  the 
woman ;  but  as  courage  failed,  grace  came  to 
the  rescue  :  "Working  for  Jesus,"  I  said,  half 
audibly ;  and  I  walked  by  her  side  as  though  I 
owned  all  the  town. 

The  little  boy  ran  a  few  steps  before  us,  and 
said,  "Mother,  Aunt  Abby  has  found  a  poor 
woman  that  wants  some  breakfast,  and  I'll  give 
her  mine."  I  spoke  and  said,  "No,  Johnny 
may  have  his  breakfast,  and  I  will  give  her 
mine." 

Mrs.  H replied,  "I  guess  I  have  got 

breakfast  enough  for  all ;"  but  looked  at  the 
stranger  rather  suspiciously,  and  said  she  must 
go  and  wash  herself,  and  then  she  would  give 
her  some  food.  When  she  had  gone  into  the 

wash-room  I  said,  "I  don't  know,  Sister  H , 

but  you  will  blame  me  for  bringing  her  here, 
but  I  could  not  help  it — she  was  suffering  so 
much  with  her  blistered  feet,  and  I  thought 
that  we  ought  to  give  her  a  pair  of  shoes,  if 
nothing  more."  This  awakened  her  sympathy, 

128 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

and  upon  examination,  finding  that  the  soles  of 
her  feet  were  covered  with  sores  and  blisters, 
after  they  had  been  washed  she  bound  them  up 
with  rags  and  ointment,  furnished  her  with  some 
clean  clothes,  and  her  husband's  slippers,  and 
told  her  she  might  stay  till  her  feet  got  well, — I 
proposing  to  leave  my  work  in  the  tract  room, 
and  assist  about  the  household  duties  mean- 
while. 

The  woman  sat  down  and  ate  heartily  of  the 
plain  and  wholesome  food  provided,  and  then 
kneeled  with  us  around  the  family  altar ;  and 
while  we  prayed  for  the  poor,  homeless  wan- 
derer, she  wept  in  the  bitterness  of  her  soul, 
and  arose  from  her  knees  bathed  in  tears. 

Mrs.  H conversed  with  her,  and  drew 

from  her  the  story  of  her  poverty  and  wander- 
ings. She  said  she  had  walked  from  Fall  River, 
some  forty  miles,  and  this  accounted  for  the 
condition  of  her  feet.  She  lay  on  the  lounge 
that  day,  and  at  night  a  bed  was  prepared  for 
her  in  grandmother's  room,  where  she  could  be 
comfortable,  and  yet  be  under  constant  super- 
vision. 

In  three  days  her  feet  were  well ,  and  then  I 
went  to  my  work  among  the  tracts,  while  she 

remained  in  the  kitchen  to  assist  Mrs.  H 

about  her  household  cares.  She  proved  to  be 

129 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

a  strong,  neat,  active,  intelligent,  and  service- 
able helper  in  all  departments  of  household 
labor ;  and  performed  her  duties  very  satisfac- 
torily. 

Sunday  came,  and  we  desired  to  have  her  go 
to  church,  but  she  had  not  suitable  clothes  to 

wear.  Mrs.  H had,  however,  just  got  an 

outfit  for  the  summer  ; — this  she  offered  to  loan 
her  for  the  occasion,  that  the  poor  wanderer 
might  hear  once  more  the  message  of  the  grace 
of  God.  To  this  proposal  the  rest  of  the  family 
objected,  saying,  "You  will  never  see  your 

clothes  again."  Mrs.  H asked  me  what  it 

was  best  to  do.  I  said,  "Go  ahead,  and  we 
will  keep  an  eye  on  her."  So  she  put  on  the 

new  clothes,  Mrs.  H wearing  her  winter 

suit,  and  we  all  went  to  the  meeting  together. 

When  the  services  were  over,  the  woman  pro- 
posed to  walk  home  alone ;  but  to  this  Mrs. 

H would  not  consent,  but  insisted  that  she 

must  ride  in  the  horse-car  with  her,  as  her  feet 
were  so  tender.  They  entered  the  car  together, 
and  started  for  home.  The  car  was  full,  and 
presently  the  woman  was  missing,  having  left 
the  car  unperceived,  and  gone,  no  one  knew 
whither. 

This  caused  Mrs.  H some  surprise,  and 

much  uneasiness  ;  not  merely  because  the  clothes 
130 


Lent  a;id  Paid  Again. 

were  gone,  but  for  fear  lest  those  of  the  family 
who  had  opposed  her  course  should  triumph 
over  her  mishap,  and  dishonor  Him  who  said, 
"Give  to  him  that  asketh  thee,  and  from  him 
that  would  borrow  of  thee  turn  not  thou away ;" 
and,  "He  that  hath  two  coats,  let  him  impart  to 
him  that  hath  none,"  whose  promises  she  had 
trusted,  whose  name  she  had  sought  to  honor 
in  the  whole  transaction  ;  and  she  could  only 
cry  mightily  to  the  Lord  in  her  heart,  that  he 
would  interpose  for  his  own  glory,  and  for  the 
honor  of  his  word,  and  send  the  woman  back 
again. 

I  reached  home  first,  and  was  preparing  sup- 
per when  Mrs.   H arrived,  looking  very 

much  distressed.  I  asked  her  if  she  was  sick, 
and  where  that  woman  was. 

"Abby,  she  is  gone,  as  sure  as  life, "said  she. 

"My  !  she  has  not,"  said  I. 

"Yes  she  has,  but  God  is  able  to  bring  her 
back." 

"Yes,  "said  I,  "and  she  has  got  to  come  back 
with  those  clothes,  any  way  !" 

I  rang  the  supper  bell ;  the  family  came  down. 
"Oh,  do  you  think,"  said  J,  "that  woman  has 

gone  off  with  all  Sister  H 's  best  clothes, — 

an  old  deceiver  !  But  I  believe  the  Lord  will 
bring  her  back  yet." 

131 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

« 'I  told  you  so."  "I  told  you  so."  "It'sno 
matter  if  you  do  lose  them."  "You  ought  to 
have  known  better"  —  were  the  comforting 
responses  that  greeted  our  ears. 

I  looked  at  Mrs.  H who  replied,  "I  have 

a  rich  Father,  and  he  is  able  to  make  it  all  up." 

"Yes,  I  have  heard  that  H had  a  rich 

father,  once  before,"  dryly  remarked  one  of  the 
young  men. 

Just  then  I  looked  out  of  the  window  and 
saw  the  woman  coming.  I  jumped  up  from  the 
table,  and  said,  "There  she  is,  thank  the  Lord  ! 
I  knew  she  would  come.  There  !  what  do  you 
think  now  ?"  She  entered  ;  the  tide  was  turned, 
and  the  family  were  quiet  again  for  a  while. 

On  Monday  the  woman  washed ;  Tuesday 
morning  she  ironed,  doing  her  work  well ;  and 
by  this  time  we  thought  that  we  might,  perhaps, 
recommend  her  as  a  capable  servant ;  and  obtain 
a  situation  for  her.  After  noon  she  said  to  Mrs 

H ,  "I  have  got  a  nice  shawl,  all  the  one  I 

had,   which  I  pawned,  and  am  to  redeem  it 

to-day  or  I  shall    lose  it."     Mrs.  H asked 

her  how  much  money  she  needed  to  redeem  it ; 
she  said,  a  dollar.  She  felt  very  reluctant  to 
entrust  her  with  money,  but  the  story  was 
plausible,  and  as  she  was  unable  to  go  herself 
and  attend  to  it,  she  ventured,  perhaps  unwisely, 
132 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

to  give  her  the  money  for  the  purpose.  Hav- 
ing finished  the  work,  she  arrayed  herself  in  the 
same  clothes  that  she  had  worn  on  Sunday,  and 
left  the  house,  unperceived  by  any  one  except- 
ing grandmother,  who  rang  the  bell,  and  told 

Mrs.  H ,  "She  has  gone  with  your  clothes ; 

did  you  know  it  ?" 

"Why!  with  my  Sunday  suit?"  said  Mrs. 

H .  "I  gave  her  no  permission  to  take  my 

clothes,  but  gave  her  a  dollar  to  redeem  her 
shawl  from  the  pawn-shop." 

Mrs.  H called  me  down  from  my  work, 

and  told  me  the  circumstances.  "Miserable  old 
thief  at  last !"  I  exclaimed.  She  was  gone  now, 
clothes  and  all,  sure  enough.  "Perhaps  she 

will  come  back  again,"  said  Mrs.  H .  "I 

don't  know,"  I  replied  ;  "it  looks  rather  suspi- 
cious." Previously  I  had  not  entirely  lost  con- 
fidence in  her,  but  now  my  faith  was  shaken. 
We  sat  down  upon  the  stairs  together,  and 
talked  the  matter  over.  We  recalled  the  cutting 
remarks  of  members  of  the  family,  and  of  Chris- 
tian friends,  concerning  our  lack  of  judgment, 
and  we  felt  rather  sore.  We  did  not  care  so 
much  for  the  clothes,  but  it  was  a  trial  to  have 
our  confidence  misplaced  and  our  expectations 
of  good  disappointed. 

We  considered,  however,  that  Christ  was 
133 


JLent  and  Paid  Again. 

rich,  and  that  he  made  himself  poor  for  the 
sake  of  his  enemies  ;  and  we  knew  that  we  had 
never  been  rich,  nor  had  we  yet  become  poor, 
but  had  simply  tried  to  do  our  duty  to  one  for 
whom  Christ  had  died  ;  and  we  desired  to  be 
children  of  the  Highest,  who  "is  kind  unto  the 
unthankful  and  the  evil ;"  and,  as  our  motives 
had  been  to  honor  God  and  do  good  in  his  name, 
we  laid  the  whole  matter  before  the  Lord  in 
earnest,  importunate  prayer,  not  doubting  that 
he  would  send  back  the  woman,  replace  the 
clothes,  or  in  some  way  make  all  these  things 
work  together  for  our  good. 

In  a  little  while  Mr.  H arrived  at  home 

from  a  long  journey,  in  great  haste,  and  pro- 
posed that  we  should  go  with  him  the  next 
morning  to  attend  an  outdoor  meeting  at 

T ,  some  forty  miles  distant,  which  was  to 

continue  over  the  fourth  of  July  and  the  follow- 
ing Lord's  day.  I  watched  to  see  what  Mrs. 
H would  say,  for  I  knew  she  had  no  sum- 
mer clothing  to  wear. 

"I  have  no  clothes  fit  to  Avear,"  said  she. 

"I  believe  I  have  heard  that  complaint  ever 
since  we  were  married,"  he  humorously  replied. 

"Sister  H ,  aren't  you  going  to  tell  him?" 

said  I. 

"You  tell   him,"  was  the  reply;    and  so    I 

134 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

briefly  stated  the  leading  facts  of  the  case ;  and 
just  then  the  other  members  of  the  family  hap- 
pening in,  gave  their  version  of  the  matter  from 
their  stand-point,  and  he  presently  got  rather 
an  extended  view  of  the  various  aspects  of  the 
case.  One  blamed  us,  and  another  blamed  us, 

and  finally,  to  our  astonishment,  Mr.  II , 

to  whom  we  had  looked  for  sympathy,  said,  "I 
should  have  thought  you  both  would  have 
known  better  than  to  let  such  a  woman  have 
your  best  clothes." 

"Mrs.  H looked  at  him  with  surprise, 

her  feelings  being  touched  by  a  reproof  from  a 
source  so  unexpected,  and  said,  perhaps  hastily, 

"Well,  I  don't  care ;  I  am  glad  I  did  just  as 
I  did.  The  Lord  will  give  me  back  every  one 
of  those  things  before  Saturday  night.  You 
see  if  he  doesn't !" 

"I  believe  it"  said  I. 

Who  is  going  to  give  you  a  shawl  that  will 
cost  seven  or  eight  dollars,  before  next  Satur- 
day night?"  asked  Mr.  H ,  incredulously. 

"The  Lord!  and  I'll  have  it  to-night!"  said 
Mrs.  H ,  with  earnest  emphasis. 

"Better  be  careful,  and  not  say  anything  that 

you  will  be  sorry  for,"  said  Mr.  H ;  and 

turning  away,  he  continued,  "Come  up  stairs; 

we    have    talked     long     enough    about    that, 

135 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

and  I  must  be  getting  ready  to  go  to  meeting." 

We  went  up  into  the  library,  where  he  com- 
menced unpacking  his  carpet-bag ;  and  taking 
out  some  articles  which  a  lady  in  Honeoye, 
N.  Y.,had  given  him,  while  on  his  journey,  he 
tossed  them  into  his  wife's  lap,  saying,  "There 
are  some  things  Sister  Allen  sent  you." 

"There  are  the  stockings  !  and  there  are  the 
boots  !  and  pocket-handkerchief  and  collar,  and 
better  ones,  too,  than  those  that  are  gone !"  I 
exclaimed  with  delight,  as  she  unfolded  the 
parcel. 

Mrs.  H shook  them  in  triumph  before 

her  husband's  face,  and  said,  "There  are  some 
of  the  things,  I  shall  get  the  rest  too!" 

It  was  now  time  for  meeting.  "Who  is 
going  to  prayer-meeting  ?"  said  Mr.  H . 


;'I  expect  to  go,"  said  I;  but  Mrs.  H- 


remarked,  "I  think  I  shall  stay  at  home  and 
pray."  She  did  not  go  with  us,  but  spent  the 
evening  in  prayer  and  reading  of  the  Scriptures. 
She  felt  some  uneasiness  about  her  positive 
assertion  so  hastily  made,  that  she  should  have 
the  shawl  that  night,  and  asked  God  to  pardon 
her  if  she  had  spoken  unadvisedly  with  her  lips. 
She  waited  through  the  evening,  hoping  that 
the  Lord  would  in  some  way  send  her  the 
expected  shawl,  but  no  one  came  in,  and  at 
136 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

last  she  retired  with  a  heart  heavy  with  disap- 
pointment, and  full  of  fears  lest  the  Lord  should 
be  dishonored  by  her  too  confident  assertions. 

Meanwhile  I  went  to  the  meeting.  As  I 
entered  the  chapel,  a  wealthy  Christian  lady, 
Miss  P ,  said  to  me,  "Is  Sister  H •  com- 
ing to  meeting  to-night?"  I  replied,  "No; 

but  Brother  H is  here."  The  meeting 

passed  on  as  usual,  and  at  the  close,  the  lady 

came  to  Mr.  H with  a  parcel  in  her  hands, 

and  said,  "Here  is  a  shawl  I  wish  you  would 

give  to  Sister  H to  give  to  some  worthy 

person,  or  to  use  herself  if  she  needs  it." 

He  took  the  package  along,  remarking  to  me 
as  we  walked  on,  "What  will  wife  say  when 
she  sees  this  shawl?  I  believe  I  shall  never 
object  to  anything  she  does,  after  this,  for  she 
always  comes  out  right." 

On  reaching  home  the  parcel  was  opened, 
and  a  fine,  all-wool  shawl  was  found,  fully  equal 
in  quality,  and  superior  in  appearance,  to  the 
one  which  had  been  lost.  I  laid  it  down,  and 
said,  "The  shawl  has  come.  Thank  the  Lord." 

Mrs.  H ,  having  retired  for  the  night,  knew 

nothing  of  it  till  morning  came,  when  she  found 
it  on  her  table,  and  her  anxiety  was  turned  to 
joyful  confidence  and  praise. 

But  this  was  not  the  end.  During  the  fore- 
137 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

noon,  while  we  were  preparing  to  go  to  the 
grove  meeting,  the  carriage  of  the  lady  who 
sent  the  shawl,  drove  up,  and  herself  and 
another  Christian  friend  came  in,  each  bearing 
a  parcel,  saying  that  they  had  somethings  which 
they  wished  to  dispose  of,  and  felt  impressed  to 

bring  them  to  Mrs.  H .     The  lady  had  a 

new  bonnet,  which  she  had  just  had  made  for 
herself,  but  which,  somehow,  would  not  jit  or 
set  easily  upon  her  head,  and  she  had  brought 

it  over  to  see  if  Mrs.  H could  wear  it. 

She  tried  it  on,  and  it  fitted  to  perfection.  The 
other  lady  brought  cloth  for  a  nice  dress,  a 
skirt,  and  cloth  for  under-garments,  which  she 
begged  her  to  accept  and  use  as  she  pleased ; 
and  so,  before  Wednesday  night,  every  article 
which  had  been  carried  away  was  replaced  by 
another  of  better  quality.  Other  articles  were 
also  sent  afterwards,  and  all  this  was  done  by 
persons  who,  when  they  sent  their  gifts,  were 
entirely  ignorant  of  the  existing  need,  and  who 
had  not  had  the  slightest  hint  of  the  circumstances 
of  the  case. 

We  were  all  quite  content  with  the  issue  of 

the  affair,  but  Mrs.  H said,  "The  Lord  has 

brought  these  things  back  that  his  name  may  be 
glorified,  and  he  is  able   to  send  that  woman 
back  with  the  clothes,  also." 
138 


'IT    FITTED    TO    PERFECTION 


1'aye  138. 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 
Sure  enough,  a  few  days  after,  as  Mrs.  H- 


was  working  in  the  kitchen,  the  poor  woman 
returned,  wearing  the  lost  clothes,  which  were 
badly  soiled,  and  reported  that  she  had  been 
sick  during  her  absence,  and  could  not  return 
before,  and  begging  pardon  with  many  tears. 
She  was  told  that  she  might  keep  the  clothes 
that  she  had  worn  away,  and  was  allowed  to 
stay  for  a  little  while. 

One  morning  she  left  again,  taking  a  cape 
belonging  to  a  member  of  the  family,  and  I  saw 
her  no  more.  Six  months  afterward,  I  was 
told  that  she  had  returned,  bringing  the  cape, 
and  saying  that  she  had  been  in  the  house  of 
correction  for  six  months,  from  which  she  had 
just  been  discharged.  She  said  she  could  not 
keep  things  belonging  to  persons  who  had  been 
so  kind  to  her ;  and  came  back  as  soon  as  she 
was  released,  confessed  her  faults,  and  went 
away.  We  afterward  learned,  from  persons 
who  knew  her,  that  she  was  a  person  of  excel- 
lent character  and  abilities,  with  one  exception  : 
she  could  not  restrain  her  appetite  for  intoxica- 
ting drinks,  when  they  came  in  her  way. 

If  I  were  writing  a  romance,  it  would  be 
proper  now  to  bring  this  story  to  some  pleas- 
ant conclusion,  and  tell  how  the  woman  was 
converted,  and  settled  for  life ;  or  that  she  died 
139 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

happy  and  went  shouting  home  to  glory.  But 
as  I  am  simply  narrating  facts,  and  facts,  for  tlie 
correctness  of  which  the  editor  of  these  pages 
can  fully  vouch,  I  have  to  drop  the  story  here. 
I  have  not  heard  from  the  woman  since,  and 
whether  she  be  dead  or  alive,  saved  or  lost,  I 
do  not  know.  This  is  all  left  with  the  Lord, 
whom  we  served,  and  for  whom,  with  single- 
ness of  heart,  we  sought  to  labor  for  the  wel- 
fare of  the  lost.  Perhaps  the  memory  of  those 
hours  and  acts  of  Christian  kindness,  and  those 
holy  influences  of  a  Christian  home,  may  yet 
linger  about  poor  Mary's  heart,  and  lead  her  to 
the  heavenly  home  at  last ;  and  possibly  we  may 
see  her  face  beyond  the  sorrows  of  the  stormy 
present,  radiant  with  the  calm  of  endless  life 
and  peace. 

But  this  story  may  yet  have  its  use.  It  may 
lead  some  one  to  be  more  circumspect  and  dis- 
criminate, as  well  as  more  merciful  and  faithful 
in  well-doing.  It  may  encourage  some  who,  in 
their  kindness  to  the  unthankful  and  the  evil, 
are  regarded  as  "members  of  the  Society  for 
the  Relief  of  the  Vicious  Poor ;"  it  may  give 
some  one  an  insight  into  some  of  the  ups  and 
downs,  trials,  perplexities,  and  uncertainties  of 
the  Christian  laborer's  life  ;  it. may  incline  some 
one  to  study  more  carefully  the  leadings  of  the 
140 


Lent  and  Paid  Again. 

Holy  Spirit,  and  to  cling  more  closely  to  the 
guiding  hand  ;  and  it  may  teach  some  troubled 
soul,  vexed  with  the  thanklessuess  of  those  they 
sought  to  benefit,  that,  as  there  are  risks  in  all 
business,  so  there  is  a  risk  in  this  ;  but  that  if 
they  do  their  service  heartily,  as  to  the  Lord, 
and  trust  wholly  in  him,  he  will  assume  those 
risks,  and  show  them  in  his  own  good  time  that 
"He  that  hath  pity  upon  the  poor  lendeth  unto 
the  Lord  ;  and  that  which  he  hath  given  will  lie 
pay  him  again."  And  if  the  labor  proves 
fruitless  of  results,  the  experience  is  often 
worth  more  than  gold,  for  consolation,  and  con- 
firmation of  faith  and  hope.  And  to  make 
others  partake  of  this  benefit,  this  truthful  tale 
is  told,  in  the  hope  that  they,  as  well  as  we, 
may  be  encouraged  to  labor  onto  save  the  lowly 
and  the  lost,  confidently  believing  that  He  who 
said,  "It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive," 
and  who  gave  his  life  to  save  a  ruined  and 
unthankful  race,  will  not  desert  his  trusting 
children,  who  seek  to  follow  in  his  steps  in  the 
midst  of  a  crooked  and  perverse  nation,  among 
whom  they  shine  as  lights  in  the  Avorld. 
141 


SOUTHERN  MISSION  WORK. 


After  the  close  of  the  late  war,  there  came 
from  the  Southern  states  the  most  touching 
appeals  for  assistance  and  relief.  Desolation 
was  everywhere,  accompanied  by  widowhood, 
orphanage,  poverty,  and  distress. 

In  war,  we  took  no  part ;  our  Master's  king- 
dom is  not  of  this  world  ;  hence  his  servants  did 
not  fight,  even  to  rescue  their  Lord  from  the 
hands  of  his  foes.  But  when  the  blood  and 
wreck  of  fraticidal  strife  was  past,  what  disci- 
ple of  Jesus  could  refuse  to  feed  the  hungry, 
clothe  the  naked,  and  comfort  the  afflicted  and 
distressed  ?  Such  thoughts  as  these  were  often 
in  my  mind.  The  death  of  my  husband's  help- 
less mother,  in  the  spring  of  1867,  relieved  me 
from  a  burden  of  care  which  I  had  borne  for 
years,  and  left  me  with  only  my  household 
duties  to  detain  me  from  the  work.  But  my 
health,  wrecked  years  before  by  remedies  urged 
upon  me  by  "physicians  of  no  value,"  seemed 
now  utterly  to  give  way  under  accumulating 
cares  and  labors,  and  the  general  aspects  of  my 
142 


Southern  Mission  Work. 

case  warranted  the  gravest  fears  of  speedy 
decline  which  my  medical  advisers  expressed. 

My  husband's  only  sister  was  already  at  work 
in  South  Carolina,  and  authentic  accounts  of 
the  needs  of  the  people  reached  us,  from  time 
to  time.  From  day  to  day,  the  conviction  grew 
on  me,  that  I  must  go  South  and  help  the 
impoverished  and  afflicted  sufferers,  and  cany 
the  tidings  of  salvation  to  the  lost.  It  also 
seemed  to  me  that  the  warmer  weather  of  the 
Southern  states  would  favorably  affect  my 
health. 

Various  untoward  circumstances,  however, 
conspired  to  detain  me  at  home  ;  I  was  reluctant 
to  leave  my  pleasant  cottage  and  my  little  ones  ; 
and  sometimes  my  health  was  so  frail  that  it 
seemed  impossible  for  me  to  undertake  such  a 
charge. 

But  while  I  lingered,  affliction  came.  Winter 
closed  in  with  its  chilly  winds,  aggravating  my 
pulmonary  and  pleuritic  difficulties,  and  a  com- 
plication of  diseases  indicated  most  clearly,  that 
unless  speedy  relief  was  afforded,  I  must  rest 
from  my  labors,  and  sink  to  the  grave  with  my 
mission  unfulfilled. 

The  call  of  duty  seemed  imperative.  Day  and 
night,  waking  or  sleeping,  the  impression  con- 
tinued. One  night,  while  asleep,  my  husband 
U3 


Southern  Mission  Wore. 

heard  me  repeating  words  of  invitation  to 
mourning  souls  :  "Come,  for  all  things  are  now 
ready  !"  and  with  tender  expostulation  inviting 
them  to  Christ.  Then,  as  they  seemed  gather- 
ing to  the  altar  of  prayer,  I  was  heard  counting, 
' '  Five — ten — fifteen — twenty — thirty , — Oh , see 
them  !  forty — fifty — "  until  rny  voice  choked 
with  emotion,  and  the  tears  ran  down  upon  my 
face. 

It  were  too  long  a  tale  to  relate  the  story  of 
sorrows,  of  tears,  of  prayers,  of  despair  of 
recovery,  of  the  struggle  with  doubt,  and  finally, 
the  wondrous  healing  in  answer  to  the  prayer 
of  faith  which  saved  the  sick,  and  was  crowned 
with  abundant  blessing,  and  honored  by  return- 
ing health.  And  yet,  even  when  thus  rescued 
from  death,  I  was  unwilling  to  leave  my  little 
ones,  and,  after  going  on  my  way  as  far  as  New 
York,  turned  back,  drawn  home  once  more  by 
the  pale  face  of  my  little  daughter;  only  to 
experience  new  sufferings  of  the  most  excruci- 
ating description,  until  at  length  I  yielded  to 
the  Master's  call,  and  went  forth  to  do  his  will. 

My  husband  could  not  oppose  my  calm  con- 
victions ;  nor  question  my  confident  assertion 
that  with  me  it  was  to  obey  and  live,  or  disobey 
and  die ;  and  so,  though  unable  to  accompany 
me,  by  reason  of  pressing  cares  at  the  Tract 
144  " 


Southern  Mission  Work. 

Repository,  he  bade  me  God-speed,  and  I  went 
forth  to  do  my  work. 

On  the  16th  of  May,  18(53, 1  sailed  from  New 
York  for  Charleston,  S.  C.,  accompanied  by 
my  eldest  son,  aged  thirteen  years,  purposing 
to  see  for  myself  something  of  the  condition  of 
affairs  at  the  South.  After  a  seasick  voyage, 
I  arrived  in  safety  at  Charleston,  and  then, 
after  a  little  time,  proceeded  a  hundred  miles 
up  into  the  country,  to  the  place  where  my  sis- 
ter was  laboring.  My  health  was  improving. 
I  found  poverty  and  wretchedness  enough. 
There  were  scores  of  little  orphans  that  had  no 
place  to  live  ; — one  night  a  little  orphan  girl  slept 
under  our  house,  glad  of  shelter  anywhere. 
Hundreds  of  poor  people  were  turned  into  the 
fields  after  the  war,  some  of  them  to  suffer  and 
to  starve.  From  a  letter  which  I  wrote  June 
5,  1868,  I  quote: 

"Last  week  a  poor  woman  and  two  little 
children  were  found  dead  in  the  woods,  and 
partially  eaten  by  turkey-buzzards.  She  was 
turned  into  the  street  because  she  could  not 
pay  her  rent,  and  starved  to  death.  I  rode  out 
on  a  plantation  last  week,  and  went  into  the 
cabins,  and  saw  more  suffering  than  I  ever  saw 
before  in  my  life.  I  found  little  infants,  three 
months  old  and  upwards,  with  scarcely  a  rag 
145 


Southern  Mission  Work. 

of  clothing  upon  them,  with  fleas  and  gnats 
covering  them,  screaming  and  crying  for  their 
mothers,  who  were  at  work  in  the  field.  Some 
have  dropped  dead  in  the  field  from  exhaustion 
and  lack  of  food.  Mothers  are  compelled  to 
leave  their  infants  alone  with  two  or  three  elder 
ones,  and  sometimes  the  houses  have  taken  fire, 
and  the  mother  has  returned  to  see  her  home 
and  children  consumed  by  the  flames.  Many 
die  from  exposure  ;  the  old  and  infirm  have  been 
turned  out  houseless  and  helpless.  Mary  buys 
a  barrel  of  meal,  and  deals  it  out  to  the  sick  and 
old  and  hungry,  as  they  come.  Some  come  a 
dozen  miles  to  get  a  little  food.  There  are 
hundreds  who  have  only  one  meal  a  day,  and 
scores  who  do  not  see  a  meal  in  three  days. 
Oh !  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  said  to  the  proud 
ones,  *I  was  an  hungered,  and  ye  gave  me  no 
meat ;  .  .  .  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me  not.' 

"I  am  feeling  strong  and  well ;  no  cough, — is 
it  not  wonderful  ?  I  have  not  felt  as  well  as  I 
do  now  for  three  years.  I  am  perfectly  content 
to  stay  as  long  as  the  Lord  wants  me  to,  though 
I  think  it  possible  the  Lord  will  let  me  come 
home  next  month ;  but  I  expect  to  come  back 
again.  The  Lord  has  a  work  for  me  to  do  in 
this  desolate  land.  I  feel  it  in  every  bone. 
My  wants  are  many,  but  my  Father  knows  all 
146 


Southern  Mission  Work. 

about  it.  Oh,  the  helpless  and  homeless  ones  ! 
what  can  be  done  ?" 

From  another  letter,  dated  June  7th,  I  quote  : 
"I  have  just  returned  from  a  Sunday-school. 
The  scholars  were  of  both  sexes  and  all  ages, 
from  the  child  of  three  years  old  up  to  the  old 
man  of  eighty;  and  they  walk  six,  eight,  and 
ten  miles  to  Sunday-school.  One  woman  eighty 
years  old  used  to  walk  ten  miles  to  public  wor- 
ship. All  were  poor,  and  many  of  them  were 
suffering ;  many,  notwithstanding  a  dozen  bar- 
rels had  been  forwarded  from  the  Repository 
to  this  point,  were  yet  ragged,  shoeless,  hatless, 
and  shirtless,  but  all  anxious  to  study,  and  all 
so  eager  to  learn  as  to  put  to  shame  some  of  the 
Sunday-schools  of  the  North .  They  sung  almost 
like  nightingales  ;  I  never  heard  sweeter  voices  ; 
and  their  devotion  was  far  more  quiet  and  sub- 
dued than  is  usually  the  case  with  the  colored 
people  at  the  North. 

"Saturday,  June  14th,  I  visited  a  distant 
plantation,  having  been  unable  to  get  a  convey- 
ance before.  There  were  perhaps  thirty  cabins 
in  an  open  field  surrounded  by  pine  forests. 
They  were  quite  destitute,  and  we  distributed 
all  the  remainder  of  our  clothing  among  the 
most  needy,  leaving  others  sad  because  there 
was  nothing  for  them.  As  soon  as  I  came,  they 
147 


Southern  Mission  Work. 

sent  word  to  the  neighboring  plantations,  and 
within  a  little  while  I  should  think  between  two 
and  three  hundred  gathered,  weary  and  worn 
with  weakness  and  labor,  yet  eager  to  hear  the 
words  of  life  and  peace.  I  read  to  them  the 
precious  promises  of  God,  and  talked  to  them 
about  the  blessed  hope  of  coming  glory,  and 
stood  on  the  ground  until  I  was  weary,  then 
sat  in  the  carriage  and  continued  my  testimony 
until  the  setting  sun  cast  its  rays  through  the 
forest,  and  admonished  me  that  we  must  depart. 
The  interest  was  intense  ;  they  crowded  around 
the  carriage  to  hear  the  gracious  message.  I 

o  c>  o 

read  to  them  and  talked  to  them  about  the  sad 
condition  of  this  world,  the  curse  that  was  on 
it,  and  the  wickedness  that  was  in  it ;  and 
explained  to  them  the  Christian's  hope,  and  told 
them  of  the  day  of  peace  and  blessing,  when 
"the  meek  shall  inherit  the  earth,"  and  God's 
kingdom  shall  come,  and  his  will  be  done  on 
earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.  I  read  to  them  of  the 
tabernacle  of  God  that  shall  be  with  men,  when 
he  shall  dwell  with  them  and  be  their  God,  and 
they  shall  be  his  people  ;  and  of  the  immortal 
life  which  Christ  shall  give,  when  he  shall  change 
our  vile  body,  that  it  may  be  fashioned  like 
unto  his  glorious  body.  Tears  trickled  down 
their  dusky  cheeks  as  I  contrasted  their  present 
148 


Southern  Mission  Work. 

sorrows  with  their  future  joys,  and  bade  them 
be  of  good  cheer  and  wait  patiently  for  the 
day  of  redemption.  They  would  hardly  allow 
me  to  stop,  they  were  so  hungry  for  the 
word. 

"'Oh,  my  Lord  !  Avhat  promises!' said  one 
man. 

"  'Do  you  hear  that?  Be  them  for  us?'  said 
another. 

"  'Yes,  they  are  for  you.' 

"  'Oh,  Missus,  read  us  more  of  that  blessed 
book,"  said  one  woman,  who  fairly  jumped  for 
joy  to  hear  the  glad  tidings. 

"They  were  sad  at  parting,  and  urged  us  to 
return.  'You  and  your  sister  must  come  back 
this  fall ;  what  shall  we  do  when  you  and  Miss 
Hastings  be  gone?'  'You  will  have  to  come 
back,  there  will  be  some  mighty  praying  for 
you  this  summer,'  said  one  old  man." 

Such  were  the  scenes  that  we  witnessed  in 
the  opening  of  our  Southern  labor.  Monday, 
June  15th,  we  prepared  for  our  northward  jour- 
ney, as  our  supplies  were  gone,  our  means 
nearly  exhausted,  and  the  summer  heat  was 
approaching.  Friends  gathered  for  a  parting 
prayer-meeting  with  their  beloved  teachers ; 
and  on  Tuesday  the  16th,  we  started.  On 
arriving  at  the  railway  station,  we  found  the 
149 


Southern  Mission  Work. 

young  and  old,  the  lame,  the  halt,  and  blind, 
assembled  to  bid  us  good-by.  They  sung  to  us 
their  sweetest  hymns,  they  prayed  us  to  come 
again ;  they  wept  when  the  time  of  parting 
arrived,  and  long  after  we  had  started,  AVC  could 
look  back  and  see  them  waving  their  farewells. 
On  the  first  of  July,  I  was  at  home  with  my 
family,  in  better  health  than  I  had  enjoyed  for 
years. 

After  spending  the  summer  at  the  North,  we 
again  broke  up  housekeeping,  and  I  disposed  of 
my  little  ones  among  kind  Christian  friends,  and 
accompanied  by  two  other  Christian  women, 
Mrs.  Pierce  and  Mrs.  Judkins,  we  started  Octo- 
ber 10th,  for  the  South.  Two  days  afterwards, 
on  the  fifteenth  anniversary  of  our  marriage, 
my  husband  wrote  the  following  lines,  which 
were  sent  on  to  cheer  me  in  my  pilgrim 
way: 

TO  MY  WIFE. 

Bride  of  my  heart,  while  memory  fondly  turning, 
Reviews  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  life's  way ; 

I  long  for  thee,  and  with  an  inward  yearning 
Recall  to  mind  our  long-past  marriage  day. 

Full  fifteen  times  the  Autumn's  gathering  splendor 
Hath  crowned  the  ripened  harvest  of  the  land, 

Since,  in  the  twilight's  shade,  in  accents  tender, 
We  made  the  promise,  as  we  clasped  the  hand. 
150 


Southern  Mission  Work. 

For  us  there  were  no  scenes  of  festal  greeting. 
No  gifts  of  friendship,  and  no  bridal  dower ; 

But  poverty  with  sickness,  there  were  meeting, 
And  faith  conjoined  them  in  our  marriage  hour. 

Thanks  be  to  Him  whose  arm  supports  and  gathers 
Those  who  would  walk  according  to  his  word. 

Houses  and  lands  may  come  to  us  from  fathers,  — 
"A  prudent  wife  is,"  surely,  "from  the  LorcV/ 

Man's  sons  have  ever  toiled — Eve's  daughters  suffered ; 

Yet  God  in  love  to  each  their  portion  gave ; 
And  he  to  us  a  mingled  cup  hath  proffered, — 

An  empty  cradle,  and  a  little  grave. 

Mercies  outnumber  sorrows,  and  around  us. 
Like  olive  plants,  our  precious  children  grow  ; 

With  bands  of  love  their  little  hands  have  bound  us  ^ 
With  sunny  hopes  their  happy  faces  glow. 

And  though  to-day,  mountain,  and  plain,  and  river, 
Rises,  and  spreads,  and  rolls,  the  loved  to  part, 

Yet  in  the  sunshine  of  the  glad  forever, 

We  hope  to  dwell,  joined  both  in  hand  and  heart. 

And  till  we  meet  in  climes  forever  vernal, 

Where  Jesus  reigns,  and  life's  fair  fountains  play, 

God  keep  us  faithful  to  those  vows  eternal 
We  made  just  fifteen  years  ago  to-day. 

,  A  little  later,  October  19,  1868,  the 
Repository  was  cleared  of  its  accumulated 
stores,  and  thirty-one  barrels  of  supplies  were 
shipped  southward  for  the  poor.  A  month 
later  other  helpers  came,  accompanied  by  my 
eldest  son ;  and  from  that  date  onward,  until 

151 


Southern  Mission  Work. 

the  spring  of  1872,  a  large  portion  of  my  time 
was  spent  in  laboring  in  the  South  among  the 
poor  and  distressed,  distributing  clothing,  pro- 
visions, Bibles  .and  tracts,  planting  schools, 
laboring  in  meetings,  and  doing  what  we  could 
to  save  the  perishing.  Before  June,  1879,  my 
husband  had  shipped  from  the  Repository  about 
one  hundred  and  thirty  densely  packed  barrels 
of  clothing  and  supplies,  which  had  been  con- 
tributed by  readers  of  THE  CHRISTIAN,  to  say 
nothing  of  books,  tracts,  boxes,  utensils,  seeds, 
etc.  The  careful  distribution  of  all  these  things 
among  the  poor,  made  labor  for  many  workers 
in  the  different  Southern  states. 

We  had  some  trials  and  many  lonely  hours, 
but  were  not  without  consolation.  In  Febru- 
ary, 1870,  my  husband  took  a  flying  trip  through 
Virginia  to  Tennessee,  where  I  was  then  stop- 
ping, and  after  a  brief  stay  I  accompanied  him 
thence  to  South  Carolina ;  whence,  after  a  short 
tarry,  he  started  northward,  taking  with  him 
some  of  our  helpers  who  were  worn  and  sick, 
and  needed  strong  arms  to  bear  them  up ;  and 
leaving  me  behind  with  an  aching  heart,  to  care 
ffor  sick  helpers,  close  up  the  spring  work,  and 
bring  the  others  with  me  when  I  came. 

We  had  some  anxiety  as  to  how  he  would 
manage  with  his  helpless  charge,  but  he  had 

152 


Southern  Mission  Work. 

gone  but  a  few  miles  before  he  met  at  the  rail- 
way junction  several  dear  friends  bound  north- 
ward from  Florida,  and  so  had  ample  aid  for 
every  emergency. 

A  little  while  afterwards  I  received  the  fol 
lowing  lines,  written  by  him  on  a  railway  car- 
riage, in  South  Carolina,  April  4, 1870,  while 
on  his  homeward  journey  : 

THE  PARTING. 

To  H.  B.  H. 

Once  more  our  lips  the  farewell  word  have  spoken, 
Once  more  we  from  each  other  sadly  part ; 

Again  the  sweet,  glad  spell  of  joy  is  broken, 
And  leaves  a  saddened,  aching,  hungry  heart. 

Distance  and  time  again  are  us  dividing ; 

Each  passing  moment  makes  that  distance  more. 
Swiftly  from  thee  away,  away,  I'm  gliding, 

Thinking1,  "When  shall  these  parting  scenes  be  o'er?1 

Jesus,  for  Thee  this  bitter  cross  enduring, 
We  trust  thy  love  to  heal  our  grief  and  pain ; 

And  gladly  read  thy  precious  word,  assuring 
That  we  shall  meet  and  never  part  again. 

Yes,  meet  again,  though  life  is  all  uncertain, 

And  we  no  more  may  clasp  these  mortal  hands  ; 

Meet  when  God  rolls  aside  time's  misty  curtain, 
Meet  where  the  blest  shall  gather  from  all  lands. 

Courage,  thou  partner  of  my  tribulation ; 

God  never  was  a  wilderness  to  thee ; 
He  is  thy  strength,  and  shield,  and  sure  salvation, 

And  where  he  is  there  shall  his  servants  be. 

H.  L.  H. 

153 


Southern  Mission  Work. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  month  of  May,  1 
started  for  home,  reaching  Boston  on  the  last 
day  of  the  month,  completely  prostrated  with 
weeks  of  anxiety  and  care  incident  to  the  closing 
of  our  work.  I  took  my  bed  and  for  six  weeks 
did  not  leave  the  house.  Broken  down  with 
fatigue,  and  tortured  with  neuralgia,  it  hardly 
seemed  possible  that  I  could  recover.  At  length 
I  began  to  improve,  and  as  the  autumn  came,  I 
once  more  started,  October  6,  1870,  with  my 
little  daughter,  for  the  South.  My  husband 
accompanied  me  as  far  as  Philadelphia.  I 
remained  through  the  winter,  and  the  spring 
following,  I  passed  up  the  Mississippi,  visited 
some  friends  in  Iowa,  reaching  home  the  first 
day  of  June,  1871. 

On  the  4th  of  October,  1871,  I  started  south 
again,  accompanied  by  brother  H.  Davis  with  a 
large  tent,  which  was  loaned  by  Bro.  T.  H. 
Ford,  as  our  old  Bethel  Tent,  under  which  so 
many  had  been  converted,  had  been  worn  out, 
and  cut  up,  the  cloth  being  distributed  among 
the  poor  in  South  Carolina  for  bed-ticks.  We 
had  several  tent  meetings  in  Tennessee  and 
Alabama,  seeing  sinners  converted,  and  believ- 
ers strengthened,  arriving  at  home  in  safety, 
January  26,  1872. 

The  following  autumn  the  Repository  was 
154 


Southern  Mission  Work. 

destroyed  in  the  Boston  fire,  and  though  I  once 
more  started  South,  going  as  far  as  Chicago, 
yet  failure  to  receive  needed  funds  caused  me 
to  return,  to  find  my  husband  prostrate  with 
hemorrhage  from  the  lungs ;  and  after  that,  cir- 
cumstances for  a  time  prevented  the  further 
personal  prosecution  of  labors  in  the  Southern 
states ;  though  I  have  been  privileged  to  aid 
many  others  who  have  gone  thither,  as  the 
Lord  has  given  me  means  and  opportunity. 
155 


INCIDENTS  IN  SOUTHERN  WORK. 


I  cannot  undertake  to  give  a  connected  his- 
tory of  our  years  of  labor  in  the  Southern  field, 
but  may,  perhaps,  be  excused  for  sketching  a 
few  incidents  which  will  give  some  idea  of  the 
lights  and  shadows  of  southern  mission  work. 
And  I  will  begin  with  an  experience  in  starting 

A  MISSION  AMONG  THE  SAND  HILLEKS. 

During  our  sojourn  in  South  Carolina,  I  was 
impressed  in  spirit  to  visit  the  Sand  Hills,  about 
twenty  miles  distant.  I  heard  that  there  were 
many  destitute  people  there,  who  were  naked 
and  starving.  The  region  was  inhabited  by 
poor  whites,  whose  condition  was  very  dis- 
tressing ;  they  owned  no  land,  and  were  with- 
out means  of  support,  with  the  exception  of 
picking  cotton  for  the  planters  around  them. 
And  now  this  scanty  dependence  had  failed, 
as  the  cotton  season  was  now  past,  and  winter 
was  coming  on.  My  mind  was  led  thither  in 
the  hope  that  I  could  do  them  some  good ;  and 
as  I  was  expecting  from  our  northern  friends 
156 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

some  thirty  barrels  of  supplies  to  aid  us  in 
carrying  on  the  work,  I  felt  that  it  was  my 
privilege  and  duty  to  afford  some  help  to  these 
poor  people.  Accordingly,  I  started  one  day 
with  my  little  son,  on  a  mission  to  this  place. 
At  the  depot  where  I  was  to  take  the  cars,  I 
met  a  government  officer,  who  asked  me  where 
I  was  going.  I  told  him,  and  he  said  : 

"Mrs.  Hastings,  I  have  great  confidence  in 
your  work,  and  my  sympathies  are  enlisted  in 
your  behalf;  and  if  I  were  at  liberty  to-day,  I 
would  go  up  with  you,  for  I  am  afraid  that  you 
will  not  find  a  place  to  lay  your  head  to-night." 

The  feeling  against  northern  people  was 
then  so  strong  that  he  thought  it  was  hardly 
safe  for  me  to  go  there  alone ;  but  fear  had 
departed  from  me,  and  I  felt  that  I  was  doing  a 
work  with  which  the  Lord  was  pleased  ;  and,  as 
there  was  no  one  there,  at  the  time,  to  go  with 
me,  I  felt  that  I  must  go  alone  with  my  boy. 
So  we  started  on,  and  arrived  in  good  season. 
Being  an  entire  stranger,  and  having  never  been 
in  that  part  ot  the  country  before,  I  prepared 
myself  for  any  trials  that  might  await  me, 
knowing  that  I  had  in  God  a  resting-place  ;  and 
if  I  was  doing  his  will  I  felt  assured  that  he 
would  take  care  of  me. 

I  inquired  for  the  colored  preacher,  and  was 
157 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

directed  to  his  home.  Calling  on  him,  he 
kindly  invited  me  to  stay  over  night ;  I  felt  very 
glad,  although  I  saw  they  were  quite  poor,  and 
the  accommodations  were  scanty.  I  noticed 
that  they  had  only  one  window,  Avith  a  wooden 
shutter  instead  of  glass,  which,  when  it  was 
closed,  left  the  house  as  dark  as  night;  and  if  it 
was  opened,  exposed  the  inmates  of  the  dwell- 
ing to  the  weather,  which  was  quite  severe. 
We,  however,  stayed  there  over  night,  and 
Lhey  made  us  as  comfortable  as  they  could. 

The  next  day  I  engaged  a  man  with  a  team, 
and  we  started  for  the  Sand  Hills.  We  rode  a 
long  way,  and  it  seemed  as  if  we  should  never 
find  them ;  but  finally  we  came  to  the  woods, 
and  there  they  showed  us  the  Sand  Hills,  which 
were  nothing  but  sand,  covered  with  tall  pine 
trees  and  a  few  scrub  oaks,  with  some  poor 
cabins  scattered  at  long  intervals  among  them, 
looking  dilapidated  enough. 

Having  found  where  these  poor  people  lived, 
and  talked  with  them  and  learned  their  condi- 
tion, we  then  returned  to  the  village.  The 
preacher's  house  being  cold,  and  my  health  not 
very  good,  I  soon  thought  best  to  seek  more  conv 
fortable  quarters  ;  and  so  went  to  the  hotel,  where 
they  rented  me  quite  a  decent  room.  As  I  had 
come  up  expecting  to  make  only  a  short  stay 
158 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

among  the  Sand  Hills,  and  then  to  return,  I  had 
taken  but  little  money  with  me.  I  paid  the  man 
who  carried  me  to  the  Sand  Hillsj^ve  dollars,  as 
he  insisted  upon  that  amount,  though  he  perhaps 
could  not  have  earned  so  much  in  any  other  way 
in  a  month.  And  now  what  was  I  to  do  ?  I  had 
no  money  left,  and  was  at  the  hotel  with  nothing 
to  eat;  for  when  I  returned  from  my  ride,  I 
found  that  the  cars  had  gone,  and  it  was  too 
late  to  go  back  to  the  place  whence  I  came.  It 
was  Saturday  night,  and  no  more  trains  went 
until  Monday,  and  as  we  were  in  a  strange 
place,  we  hardly  knew  what  course  to  take. 
We  had  but  a  few  dry  biscuits  for  supper  and 
had  eaten  little  since  morning.  We  had  bor- 
rowed, however,  a  little  coarse  corn  meal  of  our 
colored  friend,  for  Sunday,  and  concluded  to 
get  along  the  best  way  we  could,  without  running 
into  debt.  We  hsi.ii  nothing  but  the  meal,  and 
unless  we  could  bake  that,  it  would  do  us  little 
good. 

Sunda}  morning  I  sent  my  son  to  gather 
some  wood,  and  made  a  fire.  There  was  a 
pitcher  in  the  room  which  he  filled  with  water. 

"And  now,"  said  he,  "how  are  we  going  to 
bake  our  cakes  and  how  are  we  to  mix  up  the 
meal?" 

I  had  a  saucer  in  my  lunch-basket,  and  a 
159 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

tea-spoon.  We  stirred  up  a  little  meal  in  the 
saucer,  and  also  discovered  a  fire-shovel  in  the 
corner  of  the  room,  and  I  said,  "We  can  clean 
that,  and  heat  it,  and  bake  our  cake  on  that." 

We  were  glad  enough  to  do  so,  for  we  had 
eaten  but  little  food  since  Saturday  morning. 
So  we  prepared  the  meal.  I  would  bake  one 
cake  while  John  was  getting  water  and  mixing 
another.  It  was  fun  for  him,  and  as  he  would 
eat  his  cakes  he  would  jump  up  and  down  and 
say,  "Oh,  Mother,  isn't  this  glorious  !"  And  I 
think  myself  that  I  never  ate  food  when  it  tasted 
better  and  sweeter  than  did  that  corn-cake, 
baked  on  a  fire-shovel. 

So  Sunday  passed,  and  we  thanked  God  that 
it  was  as  well  with  us  as  it  was.  The  next  day 
the  hotel-keeper  said  that  he  had  a  cabin,  and 
if  we  liked  it  we  could  have  it  for  four  dollars 
a  month.  I  could  get  no  other  place,  although 
there  were  several  vacant  dwellings  in  town ; 
for  the  feeling  was  so  intense  against  northern 
people  that  no  person  to  whom  we  applied 
would  rent  us  a  place  to  lay  our  heads.  So  we 
engaged  the  cabin,  although  it  was  in  a  very 
bad  condition.  There  were  only  two  rooms, 
and  some  of  the  cracks  in  the  doors  were  an 
inch  wide.  The  chimney,  also,  had  partly  fallen 
down.  In  calm  weather  we  could  be  quite 

160 


THAT   CORN-CAKE   BAKED   ON    A   FIRE-SHOVEL. 


Page  MO 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

comfortable,  but  when  the  wind  blew,  the  smoke 
came  into  the  room  and  drove  us  out  of  doors. 
We  moved  into  our  new  quarters  Dec.  30,  1868. 
After  fitting  our  cabin  up  as  well  as  we  could, 
we  lay  down  to  sleep  upon  some  straw  without 
any  bed-tick,  and  covered  ourselves  with  a 
blanket  and  a  shawl,  and  were  quite  comforta- 
ble, notwithstanding  our  circumstances.  But 
in  the  night  we  were  disturbed  by  rats  and 
mice,  which  ran  over  us  so  that  no  sleep  came 
to  our  eyes.  If  this  had  been  all,  we  could 
have  got  along  very  well ;  but  when  we  lighted 
our  little  candle,  we  saw  something  yet  more 
annoying.  There,  in  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
was  a  snake  as  large  as  my  wrist  and  five  or  six 
feet  long,  which,  though  it  had  come  up  through 
the  broken  floor  to  hunt  the  rats  and  mice  that 
tormented  us,  was  not  at  all  welcome.  He  did 
not,  however,  attempt  to  molest  us,  but  glided 
noiselessly  away  from  our  sight.  But  this  did 
not  quiet  us  at  all ;  for  the  thought  of  venomous 
snakes,  coming  into  our  cabin  and  around  our 

7  O 

bed  at  midnight,  was  not  the  pleasantcst  thing 
that  could  occupy  our  minds. 

We  concluded  that  unless  the  Lord  had  a 
mission  for  us  here,  our  stay  would.be  a  short 
one.  The  next  day,  Mrs.  Judkins  came  to  our 
relief,  bringing  us  many  articles  from  the  other 

101 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

mission,  so  that  we  were  made  more  comforta- 
ble ;  but  we  were  not  satisfied,  and  felt  that  it 
was  not  safe  for  us  to  remain  in  the  cabin  ;  and 
finally  began  to  pray  that  we  might  be  directed 
to  a  piece  of  land  that  we  could  buy,  so  that  we 
could  build  us  a  habitation. 

The  day  following,  sister  Judkins  and  mys  ^lf 
started  out  to  find  land.  We  made  several 
attempts,  but  without  success.  Finally  we 
passed  down  a  delightful  road,  shaded  by  noble 
live-oaks,  with  sombre  drapings  of  Spanish 
moss.  A  sheet  of  water,  from  which  arose 
green  cypress  trees,  was  just  visible  through 
the  foliage  across  the  way.  Suddenly  we  found 
ourselves  in  front  of  one  of  those  fine,  roomy 
mansions,  so  often  remarked  by  travelers  in  the 
South.  A  broad  veranda  ran  along  the  front ; 
well  kept  flower  beds  adorned  the  level,  sandy 
floor  of  the  yard ;  while  the  background  was 
filled  in  with  large  masses  of  evergreen  and 
other  beautiful  trees.  A  gentleman  met  us, 
and  courteously  invited  us  within.  We  ex- 
plained our  mission  as  well  as  we  were  able,  but 
Avere  conscious,  as  we  proceeded,  of  a  marked 
change  in  the  man's  deportment.  We  asked 
him  if  he  would  sell  us  a  small  piece  of  land  in 
these  woods,  at  a  fair  price,  on  which  we  might 
build  a  free  school-house  for  the  benefit  of  the 

IG2 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

poor  people  in  the  vicinity.  He  sprang  quickly 
to  his  feet  with  an  oath,  and  exclaimed,  "I'll 
sell  you  a  thousand  acres  if  you  want  it,  but  not 
a  foot  for  any white  trash  to  tread  on." 

We  did  not  prolong  our  call  at  that  house. 
It  is  but  justice  to  southern  manners  for  me  to 
add  that  this  was  the  first  and  only  approach  to 
an  insult  ever  offered  me  in  the  South.  Before 
and  since  that  time  I  have  traveled  alone,  or 
with  only  a  lady  as  companion,  from  Virginia  to 
Georgia,  and  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Missis- 
sippi, in  every  style  of  conveyance,  and  at  all 
hours  of  the  day  and  night,  and  it  gives  me 
pleasure  to  record  that,  personally,  I  have 
everywhere  been  treated  with  courtesy  and 
respect  to  my  face. 

On  Saturday,  Jan.  2,  1869,  Mr.  Austin  W. 
Taylor,  a  brother  of  Mrs.  Judkins,  came  from 
Maine  to  aid  us.  We  searched  diligently 
for  a  building  spot,  but  were  thwarted  on  every 
side.  The  people  were  so  prejudiced  that  they 
seemed  determined  that  we  should  have  no 
land.  Finally  there  came  the  welcome  word 
from  a  gentleman  in  the  village,  who  had  been 
away  when  we  first  arrived,  that  he  would  sell  us 
land,  as  much  or  as  little  as  we  wanted.  Thus 
our  first  prayer  was  answered,  an  eligible  site 
was  selected,  and  the  writings  were  duly  made. 
163 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

Our  land  being  purchased,  sister  Judkin.s 
and  myself  began  to  pray  for  a  house.  We 
had  then  only  money  enough  for  our  personal 
expenses,  but  we  knew  that  our  heavenly  Father 
owned  the  cattle  upon  a  thousand  hills,  that  the 
silver  and  the  gold  were  his,  and  as  in  the  past 
he  had  cared  for  us,  so  he  would  still  furnish 
us  with  the  means  for  carrying  on  our  work. 

We  were  not,  however,  free  from  difficulties. 
We  had  no  carpenter,  and  where  to  find  one 
whom  we  could  trust,  and  on  whom  we  could 
depend,  we  knew  not.  But  in  this  matter  as 
in  all  others  we  could  say  : 

"What  a  privilege  to  carry 
Every  thing  to  God  in  prayer." 

A   CARPENTER   PROVIDED. 

About  this  time,  a  northern  man,  a  stranger 
whom  we  had  never  seen  or  heard  of,  Mr.  John 
Clifford,  came  to  our  Mission.  To  see  a  north- 
erner in  this  country  was  indeed  pleasant,  and  we 
gave  him  welcome.  We  found  he  was  from  the 
state  of  Maine  ;  and  that  we  were  acquainted  with 
a  sister  of  his  in  Lawrence,  Mass.  As  his  health 
was  not  firm,  he  was  on  his  way  to  Florida, 
for  a  change  of  climate.  Arriving  at  the  rail- 
road junction,  something  said  to  him,  "Go 
up  and  visit  the  Mission."  As  he  did  not  know 
164 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work* 

of  our  new  work  in  this  place,  he  left  the  inain 
road,  and  went  up  to  our  old  Mission. 

Our  teachers  there  told  him  of  the  new  field, 
and  accordingly  he  had  came  up  to  pay  us  a 
short  visit,  and  then  proceed  on  his  way  fur- 
ther south.  He  told  us  some  of  his  experi- 
ences, and  it  appeared,  incidentally,  in  the 
course  of  conversation,  that  the  very  morning 
while  we  had  laid  the  matter  of  our  house  before 
the  Lord,  he  was  impressed  to  go  South !  We 
told  him  freely  of  our  plans,  and  how  we  had 
been  prospered  ;  and  that  we  had  faith  the  Lord 
was  now  about  to  provide  us  with  a  house. 

"Why,"  said  he,  surprised,  "lam  an  experi- 
enced carpenter.  House-building  has  beeu  my 
life  occupation  !  Can  it  be  that  this  >s  what  I 
have  turned  aside  for?"  He  remained  silent  for 
a  moment,  then  added, 

"Sister  Hastings,  if  you  want  to  build  a 
house,  I  will  be  your  carpenter,  and  my  work 
shall  be  no  expense  to  you,  aside  from  my 
board." 

How  glad  we  were  to  see  him  !  We  had 
found  another  "friend  in  need, "and  all  believed 
that  it  was  through  the  direction  and  guidance 
of  God's  hand  that  he  had  come  to  us.  Ou,* 
new  friend  lost  no  time,  but  went  to  work  in  a 
way  that  showed  he  thoroughly  understood  his 
1G5 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

business.  In  a  few  hours  the  site  was  selected, 
the  entire  building  planned,  and  every  needed 
timber  specified  on  paper.  I  now  had  no  doubt 
that  our  prayers  were  to  be  fully  answered,  and 
accordingly  requested  our  visitor  to  order  the 
lumber  sawed  out  at  the  mill  immediately. 
But  he  was  cautious  as  well  as  willing.  He 
knew  that  we  had  no  money  Avith  us  for  such 
an  undertaking. 

"Sister  Hastings,"  inquired  he,  "does  your 
husband  know  of  this  ?" 

"No,"  replied  I,  "but  he  has  told  me  always 
to  do  as  I  believed  the  Lord  directed  ?" 

"Well,  you  don't  want  to  bring  him  into 
trouble  with  these  people." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  I,  "by  no  means.  I  am  very 
careful  to  look  out  for  all  that,  and  I  think  he 
has  confidence  that  I  shall  do  nothing  rashly." 

"Very  well,  just  as  you  say ;"  and  the  lumber 
was  ordered  forthwith. 

Days  passed,  during  which  we  were  planning, 
praying,  trusting,  and  expecting  help  from 
some  source  unknown  to  us.  The  brethren, 
however,  began  to  be  anxious.  The  lumber 
had  been  sawed,  hauled,  and  delivered  on  our 
land,  and  but  two  days  remained  before  the  bill 
was  to  be  presented  for  payment.  I  was  expect 
ing  letters  from  home,  and  on  the  contents  of 
166 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

these  letters  our  two  helpers  based  their 
last  hopes  of  my  being  able  to  meet  the  bill 
promptly.  The  letters  came,  bringing  to  our 
little  circle  words  of  sympathy  and  cheer 
from  the  loved  ones  at  home,  but  no  money; 
indeed,  I  had  asked  for  none,  and  so  could 
hardly  expect  any  from  this  source. 

The  faith  of  the  two  brethren  now  seemed  al- 
most ready  to  fail.  The  matter  seemed  to  them 
serious  and  gloomy  enough,  but  sister  Judkins 
and  myself  were  trustful  and  at  rest.  As  the 
evening  came  on,  the  brethren  engaged  in  a  pri- 
vate discussion  aside,  as  to  the  advisability  of 
building  without  some  assurance  of  funds.  Sad 
at  heart,  one  said  to  the  other,  without  the 
knowledge  of  sister  Judkins  or  myself, 

"Come,  let  us  take  the  Word  and  read  wher- 
ever it  opens.  If  anything  is  given  which 
seems  clearly  to  afford  encouragement,  we  will 
go  ahead  ;  but  if  not,  it  will  be  evident  that  we 
have  been  mistaken."  I  myself  had  also  at  the 
same  time  been  secretly  asking  the  Lord  to  give 
me  something  to  strengthen  my  heart  for  the 
work. 

Brother  Taylor  accordingly  took  the  Bible, 

and   as   he  opened   it,  I   watched   the  words ; 

the  first  passage  his  eye  fell  upon  was  in  the 

fifth  chapter  of  Zechariah,  beginning  with  the 

167 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

ninth  verse  :  "Then  lifted  I  up  mine  eyes,  and 
looked,  and  behold,  there  came  out  two  women, 
and  the  wind  was  in  their  wings  ;  for  they  had 
wings  like  the  wings  of  a  stork ;  and  they  lifted 
up  the  ephah  between  the  earth  and  the  heaven. 
Then  said  I  to  the  angel  that  talked  with  me, 
Whither  do  these  bear  the  ephah  ?  And  he  said 
unto  me,  To  build  it  an  house  in  the  land  of 
Shinar  :  and  it  shall  be  established,  and  set  there 
upon  her  own  base."  Zech.  v.  0 — 11. 

An  audible  smile,  Avhich  became  more  and 
more  audible  as  it  progressed,  ran  around  our 
little  circle,  as  the  good  brother  gravely  read 
the  passage,  which  none  of  us  remembered  hav- 
ing ever  seen  before. 

"Well,"  said  brother  Clifford,"!  have  nothing 
more  to  say.  I  guess  the  Lord  is  in  it." 

We  did  not  profess  to  understand  the  mean- 
ing or  application  of  the  prophecy,  but  the  "two 
women,"  who  were  zealous  to  "build  an  house," 
took  courage  from  it  as  a  good  omen,  and  the 
doubters  laughed  and  fell  into  line. 

Very  soon  after,  a  letter  postmarked,  Spring- 
field, Mass.,  was  placed  in  my  hands.  The 
mission  family  gathered  about  Avith  eager  antic- 
ipation. As  I  opened  it,  a  separate  piece  of 
paper  fell  out.  It  was  a  check  for  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars — the  precise  amount 

1GS 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

has  been  forgotten, — but  it  was  enough  to  pay 
the  entire  lumber  bill,  leaving  a  surplus  of  six 
dollars.  This  was  forwarded  to  us  by  sister 
It.  G.  Ladd,  the  wife  of  Randolph  E.  Ladd, 
who  had  been  as  a  father  to  me  in  my  youthful 
days  when  I  was  a  stranger  far  from  home. 
They  knew  nothing  of  our  present  necessities, 
but  had  collected  and  contributed  this  money,  to 
aid  us  in  the  general  work.  Those  who  have 
read  about  the  widow's  house  in  the  story  of 
"My  Thanksgiving  Dinner,"  will  recognize  the 
hand  that  ministered  to  our  needs  in  the  present 
instance  as  the  same  that  sent  such  seasonable 
aid  at  that  time. 

The  lumber  being  paid  for,  our  brethren  went 
to  work  with  a  will ;  and,  through  their  industry 
and  perseverance,  and  the  timely  arrival  of 
Stephen  Taylor,  another  brother  of  Mrs.  Jud- 
kins,  the  building  went  on  apace. 

Xever  did  I  feel  more  intimate  communion 
with  God  than  at  that  time.  We  were  strangers 
in  a  strange  land,  in  the  midst  of  a  people  who 
did  not  understand  our  designs,  and  who  looked 
upon  us  with  great  suspicion,  but  the  Lord  had 
opened  our  way.  At  one  time,  when  things 
looked  dark,  I  asked  the  Lord  to  show  me  that 
I  was  not  wrong  in  trying  to  build.  Just  then 
I  received  a  letter  from  IT.  PI.  Tilley,  of  Wash- 
169 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work 

ington,  D.  C.,  in  answer  to  some  inquiries  about 
purchasing  windows  for  the  mission-house,  in 
which  he  said,  "My  father  has  a  lot  of  windows 
on  hand,  which  he  bought  at  a  government  sale 
a  year  ago,  and  says  if  they  will  answer  your 
purpose  he  Avill  give  you  what  you  need ;"  so 
we  took  courage  once  more,  hoping  soon  to  have 
a  place  where  we  could  lay  our  heads  in  safety, 
and  were  truly  thankful  for  the  prospect. 

UNDERGROUND  TELEGRAPHS. 

Our  work  seemed  now  well  under  way,  but 
we  were  not  without  difficulties.  As  our  house 
went  up  we  found  our  lumber  began  to  disap- 
pear mysteriously  in  the  night ;  and  we  were  at 
a  loss  to  know  how  to  guard  it.  We  found  it 
necessary  to  watch  by  night  as  well  as  to  work 
by  day.  My  husband,  some  years  before,  had 
purchased  a  large  "Bethel  Tent,"  which  would 
accommodate  several  hundred  people,  and  which 
had  been  our  meeting-house  when  laboring 
where  no  other  house  could  be  obtained.  This 
he  had  sent  down  to  us,  and  also  a  smaller  lodg- 
ing tent,  which  accompanied  it.  The  smaller 
tent  had  been  pitched  near  the  building,  and  the 
men  occupied  it  during  the  night,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  being  nearer  to  the  lumber  than  when 
they  were  in  the  cabin. 

170 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

One  Saturday  evening,  our  brethren  having 
gone  away  to  labor  in  the  gospel,  the  task  of 
watching  the  lumber  fell  upon  sister  Judkins 
and  myself.  It  was  quite  an  undertaking,  and 
we  knew  that  if  the  Lord  did  not  watch  over  us 
we  were  not  safe.  But  we  felt  that  he  would 
hear  our  cries,  and  send  his  messengers  to 
shield  us  in  our  defenselessness.  We  accord- 
ingly left  our  cabin,  and  went  down  to  the  little 
tent,  to  watch  the  lumber  lest  it  should  be 
stolen.  Soon  after  arriving  we  heard  the  bark 
of  a  dog.  Sister  Judkins  said, 

"What  is  that?  Don't  you  suppose  his  mas- 
ter is  near?'' 

As  we  looked  out  we  saw  a  watch-dog  close 
by  the  door  of  our  tent ;  we  called  him  in,  patted 
his  head,  and  noticing  that  he  seemed  very  lean 
and  hungry,  we  told  him  that  if  he  would  be  a 
good  dog,  and  watch  our  lumber  that  night,  we 
would  give  him  a  good  breakfast  in  the  morning. 
His  eyes  showed  as  much  intelligence  as  a 
human  being's,  and  ne  wragged  his  tail,  as  much 
as  to  say,  "It's  a  bargain." 

As  soon  as  he  had  heard  our  promise,  he  went 
out  and  took  his  stand  by  the  pile  of  lumber, 
and  we  felt  that  the  Lord  had  sent  us  a  pro- 
tector. We  could  hear  footsteps  in  the  night 
around  our  tent,  but  the  bark  of  our  faithful 
171 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

sentinel  would  soon,  teach  intruders  that  it 
was  not  safe  for  them  to  come  that  way.  In 
the  morning,  the  dog  had  no  notion  of  leaving 
until  he  had  received  his  wages.  So  sister 
Judkins  went  up  to  the  cabin  and  cooked  him 
a  nice  breakfast,  which  seemed  very  acceptable. 
He  went  away,  but  came  back  again  that  night, 
and  every  night  until  our  brethren  returned. 
In  fact  he  made  his  home  with  us  for  some 
time,  until  we  ceased  to  need  him,  and  so  sent 
him  away. 

Not  long  after  this  our  mission  family 
removed  entirely  to  the  two  tents.  Our 
Bethel  Tent  was  oblong,  and  required  a  great 
deal  of  care  to  prevent  its  being  blown  down 
and  torn  by  the  winds.  One  time  a  terrible 
wind  arose,  and  very  soon  the  canvas  was  flap- 
ping in  all  directions.  We  turned  out  to  save 
the  tent.  The  wind  would  blow  in  at  the  open- 
ing, and  the  old  cloth  would  rip  and  tear  in 
rents  from  ten  to  fifteen  feet  long  at  a  time.  I 
would  run  to  one  end  to  sew  up  an  opening, 
and  sister  Judkins  would  go  to  the  other,  while 
my  son  and  others  were  holding  on  to  the  ropes 
to  keep  it  from  blowing  away.  It  was  serious 
business  for  us,  but  it  was  rare  sport  for  the 
boy ;  and  at  one  time,  when  they  clung  to  the 
aides  of  the  tent,  and  the  wind  lifted  them  up 
172 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

several  feet  from  the  ground,  Johnny  sung  out, 
"Good-by,  Mother,  I'm  going  i"  He  did  not 
go  very  far,  however,  but  came  down  soon,  and 
we  made  the  tent  fast  and  safe  as  we  could . 

Time  passed  on,  and  our  mission  work  in- 
creased in  interest.  Six  weeks  after  we  com- 
menced our  labors  there,  our  house  was  up  and 
enclosed,  and  we  were  in  it.  As  soon  as  the 
roof  was  finished,  and  the  chamber  floor  laid, 
we  moved  from  the  tents  and  went  into  the  attic. 
The  lower  part  of  the  house  was  boarded  up,  but 
we  had  no  windows. 

We  found  it  necessary  to  build  a  fence  round 
our  premises,  and  accordingly,  the  brethren 
had  dug  holes  for  the  posts  around  the  yard, 
and  placed  them  in  position,  but  had  not  yet 
fastened  them  in  their  places.  We  soon  ob- 
served that  some  unknown  friends  were  improv- 
ing the  night  watches  by  carrying  off  the  posts, 
which  had  been  procured  with  so  much  labor 
that  we  were  unwilling  to  lose  them.  How  to 
prevent  this  was  a  question,  until  Stephen  Tay- 
lor, who  was  an  experienced  hunter,  and  famil- 
iar with  traps  and  wood-craft,  hit  upon  a  plan. 
We  had  a  few  large  spools  of  strong  black 
thread ;  and  he  tied  the  ends  of  the  threads  to 
a  bell  which  was  placed  on.  a  little  shelf  over 
the  window,  carried  the  threads  out  into  the 
173 


Incidents    in  Southern    Work. 

yard  after  dark,  tied  them  around  the  posts,  car- 
rying them  over  branches  of  trees,  so  that  per- 
sons could  traverse  the  grounds  without  noticing 
them,  while  if  they  meddled  with  the  posts,  the 
alarm  bell  would  jingle.  In  the  morning  the 
whole  contrivance  was  taken  in  again. 

We  had  but  one  bell,  and  so,  to  fix  an  alarm 
to  protect  the  lower  part  of  the  house,  which 
was  boarded  up,  but  without  doors  or  windows, 
brother  Clifford,  who  came  up  stairs  last  of  all, 
devised  another  plan,  which  he  forgot  to  explain 
to  the  rest  of  us.  To  bar  the  passage  way,  he 
took  a  couple  of  barrels  and  put  a  board  on  the 
top,  tied  a  string  to  a  wash-boiler  cover,  and 
stretching  this  string  from  one  side  of  the  house 
to  the  other,  fixed  it  in  such  a  way  that  we  could 
hear  if  any  person  entered  the  house  from  either 
side.  Besides  this  he  placed  a  dozen  or  more 
boards  edgewise  on  the  floor,  in  such  a  manner 
that  a  slight  touch  would  cause  all  to  fall  at  once. 

Having  made  our  arrangements,  we  waited  to 
see  what  would  come.  After  watching  until 
quite  late,  as  we  were  very  weary,  we  con- 
cluded that  no  one  would  come  that  night, 
and  all  began  to  prepare  for  rest.  We  had 
hardly  retired  before  the  bell  began  to  jingle 
violently.  The  Taylor  brothers  sprang  for  the 
stairs,  entirely  forgetting  that  before  retiring 
174 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

they  had  carefully  laid  over  the  top  of  the 
unfinished  stair-way  some  boards  which  were 
barely  long  enough  to  cover  the  opening  and 
prevent  the  wind  from  coming  up  into  our 
attic.  Austin  Taylor  being  nearest  the  stairs, 
was  foremost  in  the  race,  and  starting  forward 
with  a  rush,  he  stepped  on  the  boards,  which 
instantly  gave  way,  fell,  and  covered  the  steps 
with  an  inclined  plane,  which  baffled  all  his 
attempts  to  gain  a  footing.  He  went  to  the 
bottom  with  surprising  celerity.  Mr.  Clifford, 
meeting  with  the  same  unexpected  aid  to  loco- 
motion, could  only  follow,  foiling  upon  Austin's 
back,  but  having  no  time  to  make  apologies  or 
explanations  before  Stephen  Taylor  arrived, 
accompanied  by  a  large  tin  wash-boiler,  several 
boots,  shoes,  and  whatever  other  moveables  he 
had  seized  upon  to  retard  his  rapid  descent. 

We  had  agreed  beforehand,  that  if  the  bell 
rung,  nobody  was  to  speak  or  make  a  noise, 
hoping,  by  keeping  silence,  to  discover  who  was 
outside,  stealing  the  posts.  But  the  situation 
was  too  comical,  and  all  hands  broke  out  into  a 
roar  of  laughter,  while  Austin,  who  had  man- 
aged to  extricate  himself,  was  meeting  with  new 
surprises  in  the  body  of  the  house,  which  seemed 
filled  with  traps  and  snares  and  gins,  as  he 
stumbled  over  boiler  cover,  boards,  kegs, 
175 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work, 

barrels,  and  divers  other  contrivances  of  the 
carpenter,  making  a  marvelous  racket. 

Nobody  was  hurt,  in  any  way,  but  we  who 
stayed  within,  laughing  till  our  sides  ached, 
could  hear  the  men  outside,  running  like  horses 
across  the  yards,  where  they  found  several  posts 
lying  in  confusion.  The  thieves  had  fled — even 
an  honest  man  might  have  been  frightened  at 
such  a  noise.  The  brethren  soon  returned,  and 
a  merrier  crowd  than  those  who  made  that 
mission-house  ring  with  laughter  that  night,  it 
would  be  hard  to  find  any  where. 

Two  or. three  days  later,  as  one  of  our  com- 
pany was  passing  through  the  yard,  but  con- 
cealed by  a  clump  of  shrubbery,  he  overheard  the 
following  conversation  between  two  or  three  of 
our  dusky  neighbors,  one  of  whom  was  very 
cautiously  stepping  over  the  boundary  on  to  our 
ground. 

"  Look  out !  they  say  they  have  got  under- 
ground telegraphs  here." 

The  intruder  seemed  incredulous,  and  his 
friend  continued: 

"  Well,  all  I  has  to  say  is,  you  jes  better  keep 
clar  of  thar  !  " 

"Why?" 

"  Well,  I  say  you  better  keep  clar !  Now 
mind  what  I  tells  you.  1  knows  something 
176 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

about  it.  /  done  try  it  myself;  and  now  you 
better  mind  ;  them  Yankees  has  some  curus  sort 
er  underground  telegraphs  'round  lhar.  You 
can't  go  nowhar  nigh  'thout  their  knowin'  it. 
Now  mind  what  I  tells  you  /" 

"Whether  the  person  admonished  chose  to 
"mind"  or  not,  we  cannot  say ;  but  some  one 
did,  and  the  next  day  when  a  disagreeable  and 
garrulous  old  "auntie"  made  us  her  daily  call, 
we  determined  to  utilize  her  powers  of  speech 
in  return  for  some  of  the  services  we  had  ren- 
dered her. 

"Auntie,"  said  one  of  our  number,  "you 
know  we  northerners  are  true  friends  to  your 
people,  and  are  trying  to  help  them  all  that 
we  can." 

A  smile  of  gratitude  came  over  her  face — 
her  gratitude  being  perhaps  like  that  of  some 
white  people,  "a  lively  sense  of  favors  to  be 
received" — and  she  exclaimed  with  clasped 
hands,  "Yes,  bress  de  Lor',  dat  you  is  !" 

"Well,  Auntie,  what  should  you  think  if  any 
of  your  people,  for  whom  we  are  working  so 
hard,  should  come  and  steal  from  us?"  (We 
had  some  reason  for  suspecting  that  "Auntie" 
could  justly  be  classed  among  this  number.) 

The  pious  look  of  horror  with  which  she 
regarded  the  suggestion  was  indescribable,  while 
177 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

the  punishments  which  she  assigned  the  evil 
doers  would  have  satisfied  the  demands  of  the 
most  rigid  justice. 

"Well,  Auntie,  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  some 
one  has  been  stealing  from  us"  (another  look 
of  horror)  ;  "but  no  one  can  do  it  any  more, 
because  we  are  Yankees,  you  know,  and  Yankees 
find  out  what  is  going  on,  in  very  strange  ways. 
We  don't  wrish  to  see  any  of  the  people  whom 
we  have  come  to  help,  get  into  trouble,  but  if 
our  telegraph  tells  us  when  they  come  around, 
and  we  catch  them,  what  can  we  do?" 

"Telegraph  !     Is  you  got  a  telegraph?" 

"Why,  haven't  you  heard  about  our  tele- 
graph? No  one  can  walk  a  rod  on  our  ground 
without  our  knowing  all  about  it." 

A  look  of  superstitious  fear,  far  more  genuine 
than  the  previous  "pious"  expression,  came  over 
her  countenance,  and  she  hurriedly  left  the 
house. 

In  a  short  time,  accounts  of  "the  underground 
telegraph  at  the  Yankees'  new  house,"  much 
fuller  than  our  consciences  would  allow  us  to 
give,  were  current  in  the  neighborhood.  We 
received  no  more  calls  from  our  visitor,  and  we 
lost  no  more  fence  posts. 

Things  moved  along  very  quietly  for  a  little 
time,  but  while  our  house  was  building,  hun- 
178 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

drecls  of  poor  people  flocked  around.  Some- 
times they  were  so  thick  that  it  was  impossible 
for  us  to  work  or  get  our  regular  meals.  Some- 
times perhaps  a  hundred  would  come  to  the 
house  before  breakfast.  They  were  a  motley 
crowd,  white  and  black,  sick  and  well,  sound 
and  crippled,  some  hungry,  some  lazy,  but  all 
ragged  and  wretched  enough  to  move  one's  pity  ; 
though  we  sometimes  detected  among  the  most 
ragged,  persons  whose  wants  we  had  already 
relieved,  but  who  had  come  to  try  their  luck  a 
second  time.  We  soon  found  out  this  little  de- 
vice, and  endeavored  to  guard  against  imposi- 
tion, and  confine  our  distribution  to  the  hun- 
dreds who  were  sick,  crippled,  and  in  extremest 
need,  to  the  exclusion  of  the  idle  and  vicious, 
and  those  who  were  better  able  to  provide  for 
themselves. 

There  were  comical  incidents.  One  day 
when  I  was  weary  and  unwell,  and  sisters 
Judkins  and  Esserine  had  sent  me  to  bed  to  get 
some  rest,  a  white  woman,  perhaps  fifty  years 
old,  called  and  inquired  for  me.  She  was  told 
that  I  was  resting,  and  must  not  be  disturbed. 

"But  I  must  see  the  'old  lady'"  said  she, 
"for  I  have  walked  twelve  miles  on  purpose  to 
see  her." 

Hearing  her  importunities,  I  came  down 
179 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

stairs  and  met  her  at  the  door.  When  she  saw 
me  she  still  inquired  for  the  *'old  lady,"  mean- 
ing the  mistress  of  the  house. 

When  I  told  her  that  I  was  the  one  she  was 
seeking,  she  started  back  and  raised  her  eyes  to 
heaven  in  amazement,  and  looking  around  on 
her  companions  said : 

"La,  me  !  she  looks  just  like  any  of  us  !  Aint 
she  pretty  I  why,  they  told  me  that  the  Yankees 
had  horns  !" 

A  burst  of  laughter,  hearty  enough  to  settle  a 
dinner,  followed  this  frank  confession,  and  I 
gave  the  poor  woman  a  dress,  some  clothing  for 
her  children,  and  a  Testament,  etc. ;  and  reliev- 
ing the  wants  of  her  companions,  we  sent  them 
away  with  kind  words  to  their  homes. 

So  the  days  came  and  went,  while  we 
ministered  to  the  needs  of  the  poor  souls  who, 
through  four  years  of  war,  privation,  and  dis- 
tress, had  come  to  lack  every  thing,  and  to  have 
no  means  of  getting  ary  thing.  Money  was 
worthless  ;  clothing  was  worn  out ;  food  was 
scarce  ;  war  had  robbed  wives  of  their  hus- 
bands, children  of  their  fathers,  and  old  people 
of  their  sons ;  and  the  calls  for  help  were  so 
numerous,  and  so  importunate  that  we  could 
hardly  find  an  hour  to  rest.  HoAvever,  our 
building  progressed,  and  we  soon  had  a  place 
ISO 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

to  lay  our  heads ;  and  our  little  church  and 
school-house  and  mission-rooms,  all  under  one 
roof,  were  finished  by  our  faithful  brethren, 
John  Clifford,  and  Austin  and  Stephen  Taylor. 
All  this  while  our  schools  were  in  progress 
in  the  Tent ;  rapid  improvement  was  made  by 
the  children,  and  we  were  trying  to  do  all  the 
good  we  could.  Though  we  had  many  obsta- 
cles and  discouragements,  yet  every  thing  that 
we  undertook  prospered,  and  we  were  well  sat- 
isfied that  God  was  in  the  work,  and  was  guid- 
ing us  in  our  way. 

OVERCOMING    EVIL   WITH    GOOD. 

At  one  time,  during  our  sojourn  in  the  South, 
we  were  having  profitable  and  interesting  meet- 
ings some  six  miles  away  from  our  mission- 
house.  We  hud  a  good  horse  which  sister 
Judkins  had  bought  for  the  mission  work  ;  and 
a  nice  carriage  which  the  Taylor  brothers  had 
purchased  with  money  received  by  the  sale  of 
spruce  gum  which  they  had  gathered  in  the 
woods  of  Maine.  With  this  equipment  we 
went  to  and  fro  to  do  the  Master's  will,  and 
attend  these  meetings  among  the  Sand  Hills. 
Three  miles  of  this  region  we  traveled  through 
pine  forests  and  openings,  without  seeing  a 
house.  In  these  woods  were  many  workmen, 
181 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

employed  in  making  turpentine,  which  they 
gathered  from  the  pine  trees,  scraping  the 
bark  from  one  side  of  the  tree,  and  cutting 
channels  and  cavities  where  the  turpentine  could 
collect.  It  was  a  strange  sight  to  look  through 
the  forests  and  see  hundreds  of  these  trees,  with 
the  bark  peeled  off  on  one  side  to  the  height  of 
five  or  six  feet,  the  trees  looking  almost  like  an 
army  of  men  in  white  frocks.  The  turpentine 
workers  were  generally  a  rough  class,  destitute 
of  Christian  principle  or  influences,  and  at  this 
time  enmity  toward  the  North  was  very  intense, 
and  any  person  who  came  from  the  North  was 
regarded  with  great  dislike  ;  especially  any  one 
interested  in  the  education  and  advancement  of 
the  people.  Such  persons  at  once  brought 
upon  themselves  the  hatred  of  a  certain  class  in 
the  community. 

It  was  during  these  meetings  that  we  were 
threatened  by  a  gang  of  men  who  spent  most  of 
their  time  in  this  piece  of  woods.  We  were 
warned  that  they  had  threatened  to  shoot  us  if 
we  passed  through  again  to  attend  any  meetings. 
Some  were  worried  about  us,  fearing  that  we 
might  forget  to  watch,  and  that  some  evil  might 
happen  to  us  ;  but  we  felt  that  the  great  God  had 
watched  over  us  in  the  past  and  carried  us 
through  many  trying  scenes,  and  would  still 
182 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

take  care  of  us  while  we  were  endeavoring  to 
do  his  will,  and  seeking  to  save  the  lost. 

7  O 

We  accordingly  started  on  our  way,  trusting 
in  Him  who  said,  "I  will  never  leave  thee  nor 
forsake  thee."  As  we  were  riding  through  the 
woods  and  approached  the  turpentine  camp,  we 
saw  the  turpentine  gatherers  at  a  little  distance, 
hurrying  along  to  meet  us»  We  were  well  pre- 
pared for  them,  as  we  had  brought  some  books 
and  tracts  for  their  benefit ; — such  things  being 
very  rare  in  the  neighborhood,  and  likely  to  be 
acceptable  to  any  person  who  could  read,  who 
lived  in  the  pine  woods.  As  they  came  up  to 
us,  wre  stopped  our  horse,  and  bade  them  good- 
morning.  We  told  them  that  we  had  some 
books  which  we  had  brought  them,  to  while 
away  the  hours  when  their  work  was  done.  We 
talked  to  them  kindly,  and  soon  saw  that  the 
spirit  of  fight  was  departing,  and  that  their  hearts 
were  touched  as  we  told  them  of  our  errand 
there,  and  our  desire  to  relieve  suffering  and 
misery,  and  save  the  perishing  around  us.  We 
felt  quite  encouraged  when  we  saw  the  tears 
standing  in  the  eyes  of  some,  and  we  invited 
them  to  attend  the  meeting,  which  they  prom- 
ised to  do,  and  afterward  fulfilled  their  promise. 

We  then  rode  on  our  way,  feeling  greatly  re- 
lieved and  encouraged,  hoping  that  we  might 
183 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

yet  do  them  good ;  and  soon  came  to  the  place 
of  meeting.  It  was  a  little  log  church,  Avhere 
there  were  not  many  comforts.  The  floor  was 
rough,  and  the  crevices  between  the  logs  were 

O       '  O 

large,  and  all  through  the  cold  winter  the  wind 
came  whistling  up  through  the  floor,  and  driv- 
ing through  the  windows  and  walls  ;  and  as  we 
looked  at  the  people,  and  saw  the  little  children 
with  their  bare  feet  and  scanty  clothing,  our 
hearts  were  touched  with  sympathy  for  them, 
and  we  resolved  to  help  them  so  far  as  it  was 
in  our  power.  So  the  little  log  church  was 
repaired,  and  made  more  comfortable,  and  the 
meetings  were  attended  with  blessing.  The 
people  manifested  deep  feeling,  and  trembled 
under  the  preaching  of  the  word.  The  gospel 
was  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation,  and  I 
think  some  fifteen  or  twenty  expressed  their 
desire  for  baptism,  and  a  day  was  appointed 
for  the  ceremony.  This  served  as  an  occasion 
for  opposers  to  carry  out  their  threats  previously 
made.  The  leader  announced  openly  that  he 
would  "break  up  that  meeting  next  time."  We 
were  informed  of  his  intentions  by  faithful 
friends,  but  did  not  see  fit  to  change  our  plans. 
Our  trust  was  in  God  ;  and  when  Saturday  night 
came,  our  mission  family  earnestly  sought  his 
protecting  care  for  the  morrow.  Sunday,  as 
184 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

our  company  was  gathered  on  the  margin  of  a 
forest  stream  to  witness  the  public  profession 
of  faith  in  Christ  Jesus,  we  observed  the  dark 
looks  of  our  chief  opposer,  but  manifested  no 
apprehension.  As  the  time  for  singing  was  at 
hand,  I  offered  him  a  hymn  book — telling  him 
he  might  keep  it — and  invited  him  to  join  with 
us  in  the  hymn,  as  I  knew  that  he  had  some 
musical  talent.  He  hesitated,  turned  pale,  and 
then,  with  a  trembling  hand,  accepted  the  book, 
and,  later,  even  attempted  to  sing.  But  his 
plans  were  evidently  disarranged.  Neither  he 
nor  his  companions  created  the  slightest  dis- 
turbance, and,  at  the  close  of  the  service,  we 
went  on  our  way  rejoicing. 

But  this  was  not  the  end.  Vexed  at  himself 
for  his  display  of  weakness  before  those  whom 
he  had  set  out  to  lead  in  evil  deeds,  he  vowed 
that  he  would  "fix  'em  next  time,  and  no  fool- 
in<r  about  it !"  A^ain  we  were  warned  of  his 

O  £-" 

rage,  but  decided  to  pursue  our  course,  what- 
ever might  appear  to  be  in  the  way.  But 
Sunday  night  we  made  the  matter  a  subject  of 
especial  prayer — in  which  we  were  joined  by 
some  of  the  young  converts — that  the  heavenly 
Father  would  change  the  man's  heart  or  else 
remove  him  from  our  path.  On  Monday 
following,  he  came  into  the  village,  partly  on 
185 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

business,  but  also,  as  he  freely  declared,  to 
"raise  a  crowd  to  clean  out  the  Yankees  from 
the  Sand  Hills." 

Such  a  crowd  was  not  hard  to  obtain  in  that 
place,  when  "free  whiskey"  was  offered  as  an 
inducement ;  and  he  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  a  full  force  enlisted  under  his  banner. 
When  night  came,  however,  he  was  in  anything 
but  a  safe  condition  to  drive  a  team  of  fractious 
mules  through  three  miles  of  forest.  The  mules , 
stung  to  madness  by  his  drunken  blows,  ran, 
and  threw  him  under  the  wheels  of  his  wagon. 
We  were  not  disturbed  at  the  next  meeting.  The 
"crowd"  had  disbanded;  their  leader  lay  upon 
his  bed  writhing  in  pain,  with  three  broken  ribs 
and  a  fractured  shoulder.  The  next  day  sister 
Judkins  proposed  that  we  go  out  and  visit  him 
and  carry  him  some  comforts.  I  accordingly 
went  with  her,  and  carried  a  basket  of  delicacies 
which  my  husband  had  sent  down  for  myself. 
He  received  the  gift  without  thanks,  and  gave 
in  return  a  hearty  round  of  abuse.  We  received 
his  reproaches  kindly,  and  in  a  few  days  I  called 
again  in  company  with  sister  Judkins.  Some- 
what surprised  at  our  persistence,  he  seemed 
more  ready  to  listen  to  us.  We  explained  our 
work  to  him,  and  finally  had  the  satisfaction,  as 
he  came  to  understand  our  motives,  of  seeing 
186 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

that  his  opposition  to  the  Mission  hud  ceased. 
There  were  many  things  all  through  the  work 
to  depress  our  spirits.  If  we  had  stopped  to 
look  at  them  we  might  easily  have  become  dis- 
couraged ;  but  whenever  we  persevered  in  any 
good  purpose,  our  way  was  always  made  plain 
before  us,  and  paths  that  rose  like  mountains  in 
the  distance,  became  level  ways  as  we  went 
onward,  working  for  God  and  humanity,  and 
trusting  in  the  Lord  to  deliver  us  from  unreason- 
able and  wicked  men. 

A   THOUSAND   DOLLARS. 

Our  mission  work  in  the  South  was  done  in 
faith,  and  we  lived  accordingly; — trusting  God 
for  every  thing  we  had.  If  we  needed  money, 
we  asked  the  Lord  for  it ;  and  if  it  was  right 
that  we  should  have  it,  we  received  it.  In  the 
spring  of  1869,  after  our  winter's  work  had 
been  accomplished,  and  it  was  time  to  return 
home  to  escape  the  summer  heat,  we  had  spent 
our  money  and  disposed  of  our  supplies,  and 
nothing  remained  for  us  but  to  start  for  the 
North.  We  were  expecting  at  that  time,  money 
from  some  quarter,  for  our  journey,  but  where 
it  was  coming  from  AVTC  knew  not,  for  we  had 

O  * 

only  asked  our  heavenly  Father  to  send  it  to  us. 
We  had  asked  for  a  thousand  dollars,  to  pay 

187 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

our  expenses,  and  enable  us  to  continue  oui 
work  ;  and  some  of  the  mission  teachers  were 
afraid  we  might  be  disappointed  and  not  receive 
it.  However  we  watched  the  post-office  closely, 
expecting  that  help  would  surely  come. 

On  the  night  previous  to  the  date  fixed  for 
our  departure,  the  cars  had  come  in  for  the  last 
time,  and  if  no  money  were  received  at  that 
time  we  were  left  without  resources.  But  I 
felt  that  the  Lord  had  heard  prayer,  and  would 
still  hear ;  and  I  believed  that  he  would  surely 
provide  for  all  our  wants.  So  the  brethren 
Clifford  and  Taylors  started  off  to  the  post-office 
to  see  what  news  had  come  for  us.  They 
returned  home  with  sorrowful  faces,  and  down- 
cast looks,  and  sitting  down,  Austin  Taylor 
said,  "Well,  Sister  Hastings,  no  letters  and  no 
money.  How  are  we  going  to  get  home  ?" 

This  was  of  course  a  trying  time  to  me  as 
well  as  the  others ;  for  I  had  told  them  that  the 
Lord  would  provide,  and  that  we  must  not 
doubt  his  power  and  willingness  to  do  it.  But 
there  we  w^ere ;  the  cars  were  in  for  the  last 
time  before  the  hour  set  to  start  on  our  journey  ; 
our  surplus  food  was  given  to  the  poor,  and  we 
were  without  money  to  take  us  home.  There 
was  no  one  there  to  whom  we  could  apply  for  a 
loan  if  we  had  wished  to  make  such  an  applica- 
188 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

don,  and  we  were  in  perplexity,  especially 
myself,  for  I  had  been  very  firm  in  the  belief 
that  I  should  get  a  thousand  dollars  from  some 
source,  as  I  had  been  asking  the  Lord  for  it  for 
some  time. 

But  he  saw  fit  to  give  our  faith  a  trial,  and 
while  I  was  thinking  about  the  matter,  and 
almost  yielding  to  the  influences  of  the  unbelief 
around  me,  I  looked  out  of  the  window,  and 
saw  two  strangers  coming  over  the  hill.  I  said 
nothing  for  a  moment,  but  suddenly  the  thought 
flashed  over  me  that  they  were  coming  to  see 
us.  Just  then  brother  Taylor  looked  out  and 
said,  "Who  can  that  be?  nobody  that  lives 
here.  They  look  just  like  some  of  our  northern 
people." 

They  soon  turned  into  the  street  where  our 
mission-house  stood,  and  as  they  drew  nearer, 
I  said,  "Why,  that  looks  like  sister  Wood  !" 
— an  old  friend  who  had  lived  with  us  as  a 
member  of  our  family  in  by-gone  days  of 
pleasant  memory. 

Sister  Judkins  clapped  her  hands  and  praised 
the  Lord.  The  strangers  proved  to  be  brother 
T.  E.  Wood  and  Abby,  his  wife,  from  New 
Hampshire.  They  were  now  on  their  way  home 
from  Florida,  where  they  had  spent  the  winter  ; 
and,  having  changed  cars  at  the  junction,  a  few 

189 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

miles  distant,  they  said,  "Let  us  go  up  and  see 
sister  Hastings."  So  the  Lord  directed  their 
steps  thither.  After  they  had  come  in  and 
eaten  with  us,  brother  Wood,  who  had  called 
at  the  other  Mission,  about  fifteen  miles  below, 
and  inquired  about  us,  and  found  that  we  were 
getting  ready  to  go  home,  said, 

"Are  you  short  of  money?" 

"Yes,"  said  I. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "if  you  want  some  money, 
I  can  lend  you  some.  The  Lord  has  blessed 
me  ;  I  can  lend  you  whatever  you  need  till  you 
get  home." 

I  said,  "It  will  take  nearly  three  hundred 
dollars  to  pay  our  expenses  home." 

"Well,"  said  he,  I  can  let  you  have  it." 

Here,  then,  was  three  hundred  dollars,  but  it 
was  not  the  thousand  dollars  ;  yet  I  was  thank- 
ful to  the  Lord  for  this.  He  went  to  Charleston 
and  bought  tickets,  for  they  could  be  bought  at 
that  place  more  cheaply  than  in  the  little  village 
where  we  were.  There  were  eleven  of  us  going, 
and  as  a  part  preferred  to  go  by  water,  and  the 
rest  by  land,  the  company  divided.  We  went 
by  land  through  New  York,  stopped  at  the  New 
Haven  railway  station,  and  while  we  were  in  the 
waiting-room  I  saw  a, paper  on  the  table,  which 
some  traveler  had  probably  left  there.  I  took  it 
190 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

up,  and  the  first  thing  which  my  eye  rested  upon 
was  a  notice  which  ran  like  this  :  "Bequeathed 
to  Mrs.  H.  L.  Hastings,  for  her  mission  work, 
one  thousand  dollars!"  This  was  from  a  man 
named  Joseph  Turner,  in  Maine,  whom  I  had 
never  seen  or  heard  of  before,  and  who  had 
never  seen  me,  but  had  heard  of  my  work. 

This  circumstance  gave  me  great  encourage- 
ment, because  I  saw  that  God's  promise  was 
sure,  and  that  there  need  be  no  doubts  of  His 
faithfulness,  who  said,  "Whatsoever  ye  shall 
ask  the  Father  in.  my  name,  he  will  give  it  you." 

I  came  home  and  told  the  story  of  the  Lord's 
dealings  with  us,  which  greatly  rejoiced  the 
hearts  of  our  friends  and  strengthened  their  faith. 
On  reaching  Boston,  we  found  that  the  money 
from  the  deceased  stranger  was  waiting  for  us. 
I  gladly  received  it,  paid  the  debt  I  owed  for 
our  passages,  and  felt  more  than  ever  assured 
that  there  was  a  God  who  hears  and  answers 
prayer. 

THE    REGIONS    BEYOND. 

After  my  return  to  South  Carolina  in  the 
fall  of  1869,  I  received  invitations  to  come  to 
North  Carolina  to  establish  a  Sunday-school  in 
a  Baptist  church.  One  of  our  mission  workers, 
sister  Emily  A.  Esserine,  had  visited  that 
191 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

region  and  prepared  the  way,  and  they  sent  for 
me  to  come  up  and  help  them.  At  first  I  felt 
a  little  hesitation  about  going,  but  another  let- 
ter was  received,  urging  me  to  come.  Our 
mission  helpers  thought  it  was  an  opening  from 
the  Lord,  and  I  thought  I  had  better  go  and 
see  what  could  be  done  for  them.  So  gister 
Judkins  and  I  took  our  faithful  horse,  old 
"John,"  with  a  boy  to  drive  for  us,  and  equipped 
with  Sunday-school  books,  cards,  Bibles,  and 
Testaments,  we  started  out. 

Those  acquainted  Avith  the  South  know  very 
well  that  for  some  years  after  the  war,  nothing 
was  done  to  repair  roads,  or  to  rebuild  bridges, 
which  were  nearly  all  burned  down  during  the 
war ;  so  that  we  were  obliged  to  take  what  lay 
before  us,  good  or  bad,  and  we  found  it  mostly 
bad.  We  had  some  forty  miles  to  drive,  with- 
out the  assistance  of  guide-posts,  and  few  of 
the  houses  were  built  upon  the  highways ;  so 
that  after  we  had  traveled  about  twenty  miles, 
we  were  in  a  strait  betwixt  two,  to  know  what 
to  do  or  which  road  to  take.  The  prospect 
before  us  seemed  forbidding,  and  a  feeling  of 
horror  came  over  me,  as  I  remembered  the 
prejudice  and  suspicion  which  existed  in  the 
henrts  of  the  southern  people,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  that  the  prospect  looked  very  dark. 
192 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

I  said  to  my  companion,  "Sister  Judkins,  I 
want  to  rest  and  pray."  So  we  stopped  our 
horse  and  took  out  our  lunch,  but  first,  we 
knelt  down  with  our  Bibles  before  us,  to  ask 
advice  and  counsel  at  the  throne  of  "Trace. 

O 

After  prayers,  we  opened  the  Scriptures  at  this 
passage  :  "Then  spake  the  Lord  to  Paul  in  the 
night,  by  a  vision,  Be  not  afraid,  but  speak, 
and  hold  not  thy  peace  ;  for  I  am  with  thee, 
and  no  man  shall  set  on  thee  to  hurt  thee:  for  I 
have  much  people  in  this  city."  Acts  xviii.  9, 
10.  This  seemed  to  be  an  encouragement  to 
us  to  move  forward. 

The  fields  not  being  fenced,  the  guide-posts 
having  been  broken  down  in  time  of  war,  and 
the  roads  crossing  each  other  frequently,  there 
was  no  alternative  for  us  but  to  let  our  faithful 
horse  take  his  own  course,  trusting  in  the  Lord's 
guidance  ;  for  if  we  asked  direction  from  those 
we  met,  we  feared  that  they  might  tell  us 
wrong.  Their  answer  usually  was,  when  we 
inquired  the  distance  to  any  place,  ''Two  looks 
and  a  go-by;  and  when  you  get  beyond  there, 
two  looks  more,  and  a  go-by."  *  This  language 
not  being  familiar  to  us,  we  were  not  willing 

*  A  "look,"  we  afterwards  learned,  was  as  far  as  we  could  see,  and 
after  traveling  that  distance,  another  "look"  made  "two  looks,"  and 
a  little  distance  farther  was  "a  go-by."  This  style  of  measurement  in 
a  somewhat  level  country  was  not  quite  as  indefinite  as  it  might  seem 
to  be  at  the  first  thought. 

193 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

to  trust  to  their  directions ;  so  we  let  old 
"John"  take  his  own  course,  and  we  rode  on, 
till  we  thought  we  must  be  near  the  place  of 
our  destination.  Feeling  weary,  and  anxious 
to  know  the  distance  we  must  yet  go,  we  inquired 
of  a  man,  who  stood  by  the  way-side,  if  he 
could  tell  us  how  far  it  was  to  such  a  man's 
place. 

"What,"  said  he,  "that  old  drunkard's?" 

"Ah,"  said  I,  "is  he  a  drunkard?" 

"Yes,  he  is." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "if  he  is  a  drunkard  he  needs 
salvation." 

The  man  told  us  that  it  was  three  miles  fur- 
ther on,  so  we  pushed  forward  and  soon  arrived 
at  the  place,  where  a  fine-looking  gentleman 
came  out  from  his  door  and  greeted  us  very 
cordially.  He  may  have  been  a  drinking  man, 
for  nearly  all  the  people  in  that  vicinity  used 
ardent  spirits,  but  I  will  say,  to  his  credit,  that 
we  saw  no  indications  of  intoxication  while 
there,  and  that  he  treated  us  with  profound 
respect,  cared  for  our  horse,  and  his  family  took 
great  pains  to  see  that  all  our  wants  were 
supplied. 

It  appeared  that,  before  the  war,  there  had 
been  a  meeting-house  built  in  this  neighbor- 
hood, and  this  man  had  furnished  much  of  the 
194 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

means  to  build  it.  Although  not  a  Christian,  he 
at  least  showed  a  respect  for  religious  worship. 
The  preacher  who  held  services  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Baptist  denomination,  and  was  not 
very  friendly  toward  northern  people ;  and  of 
course  he  could  not  feel  very  much  elated  over 
our  arrival.  These  things  we  were  entirely 
ignorant  of;  had  we  known  them  we  might 
have  taken  an  entirely  different  course,  but 
sometimes  ignorance  is  bliss. 

o 

The  notice  had  been  given  out  that  I  was  to 
speak  in  the  church  the  next  day  This,  also, 
was  a  surprise  to  me,  for  I  had  never  spoken  in 
public,  except  to  read  the  blessed  Bible  to  the 
ignorant  ones  who  could  not  read  it  for  them- 
selves. But  Sunday  came,  and  we  repaired  to 
the  meeting.  The  hour  arrived,  and  the  minis- 
ter came  to  fill  his  appointment.  He  went  up 
into  the  pulpit ;  but  we  soon  noticed  three  men  in 
the  house  who  looked  as  if  something  was  wrong, 
and  seemed  very  much  displeased.  Finally 
they  arose,  went  up  into  the  pulpit,  and  began 
to  whisper  to  the  minister,  assuming  a  threaten- 
ing attitude  toward  him.  I  did  not  know  what 
the  difficulty  was,  but  felt  very  strangely  to 
see  such  conduct  in  a  house  of  worship,  and 
wondered  what  the  trouble  could  be.  Just  at 
this  time  our  hostess  came  to  me,  saying, 
105 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

"We  expect  a  row  here  to-day  if  this  man 
does  not  let  you  preach  ?" 

"A  rowf  said  I,  "oh,  no,  I  did  not  come 
to  make  a  row." 

"Well,"  said  she,  "if  he  does  not  let  you 
preach,  these  seats  will  all  be  taken  out  of  doors, 
and  the  grove  will  be  seated  for  you." 

"Oh  dear  !"  said  I,  "I  am  sorry,  I  am  sorry  !" 

"And,"  said  she,  "if  you  never  preached 
before,  you  must  preach  to-day,  or  there  will 
be  dissatisfaction,  for  all  these  people  have 
come  to  hear  you." 

For  the  first  time,  I  learned  that  the  notice 
of  my  being  a  public  speaker  had  gone  out  many 
miles  around,  and  the  story  had  gone  forth  that 
I  was  a  Catholic  nun  who  was  gathering  up 
orphan  children  to  take  them  North,  and  put 
them  in  the  cotton  mills,  to  work.  At  this 
time,  I  was  receiving  letters  from  friends  at 
Washington,  which  had  that  postmark  upon 
them,  and  some  of  the  people,  supposing  that 
I  was  assisted  by  the  government,  reported  that 
I  was  a  political  character,  sent  down  by  the 
men  of  the  North  to  spy  out  the  country.  All 
these  things  had  prejudiced  the  minds  of  the 
people,  and  aroused  them  to  a  high  pitch  of 
excitement,  which  was  the  reason  the  commu- 
nity was  in  such  a  commotion.  I  had  noticed 
196 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

that  while  there  were  but  few  persons  in  the 
church,  there  was  a  large  congregation  outside  ; 
and  not  understanding  the  state  of  affairs,  I 
thought  it  might  be  owing  to  some  unfriendly 
feeling  toward  me.  This,  however,  did  not 
seem  to  be  the  case. 

At  length  the  minister  arose  and  commenced 
the  exercises.  His  text  was:  "So  shall  my 
word  be  that  goeth  forth  out  of  my  mouth :  it 
shall  not  return  unto  me  void,  but  it  shall  accom- 
plish that  which  I  please,  and  it  shall  prosper 
in  the  thing  whereto  I  sent  it."  Isa.  Iv.  11. 
He  commenced  his  sermon,  but  being,  perhaps, 
somewhat  disturbed  by  my  presence,  and  the 
wishes  of  those  who  desired  to  hear  me,  he 
seemed  to  have  very  little  freedom  of  mind  or 
speech.  He  talked  on,  however,  for  an  hour 
and  a  quarter,  and  sat  down. 

Before  he  commenced  his  sermon  he  spoke 
out  rather  roughly,  and  said  :  "There  is  a  woman 
here  from  Boston  who  wants  to  preach,  and  she 
can  do  so  after  I  get  through  if  she  wants  to." 

This  announcement,  coining  so  unexpectedly, 
aroused  my  indignation  that  a  notice  so  uncour- 
teous  and  so  untrue  should  be  given,  especially 
from  the  pulpit ;  but  I  remembered  the  passage, 
"No  man  shall  set  on  thee  to  hurt  thee,"  so  I 

thanked  God  and  took  courage,  though  it  was 
197 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

not  very  pleasing  to  me  to  hear  such  an  appoint- 
ment as  that.  Accordingly,  after  he  had  iiii- 
ished  his  remarks,  the  people  being  weary,  I 
told  my  hostess  to  tell  the  congregation,  that 
after  a  little  recess  I  would  address  them.  So 
after  about  fifteen  minutes'  intermission,  we 
gathered  together  again. 

The  speaker  of  the  morning  had  taken  his  seat 
at  my  left,  and  I  invited  him  to  take  charge  of 
the  singing,  which  he  declined  to  do,  leaving 
the  entire  responsibility  upon  myself  and  Mrs. 
Judkins.  She  being  a  very  good  singer,  and 
I  being  able  to  sing  some  myself,  with  the 
Spirit  of  God  in  our  hearts  we  lifted  up  our 
voices  in  a  song  which,  in  our  condition,  we 
could  sing  in  all  honesty  of  soul : — 

"I  long  here  have  wandered,  a  pilgrim,  and  stranger ; 
Aloof  from  the  world  have  endeavored  to  keep ;  — " 

after  which  sister  Judkins  led  in  prayer ;  and 
none  but  a  person  filled  with  the  Holy  Spirit 
could  ever  offer  such  a  prayer  as  hers  Avas.  Feel- 
ing in  her  inmost  soul  the  situation  in  which  we 
were  placed,  she  prayed  it  all  out, —  my  expe- 
rience in  leaving  my  beautiful  home  and  my 
children,  and  the  story  of  our  need  and  help- 
lessness ;  and  her  prayer,  accompanied  by  the 
Holy  Spirit,  was  heard  and  answered,  and 

198 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

prepared  the  hearts  of  those  present  to  hear  the 
message  from  the  Lord. 

Having  never  before  spoken  to  a  congrega- 
tion after  this  manner,  I,  of  course,  had  no  dis- 
course prepared,  and  so  was  obliged  to  look 
wholly  to  the  Lord  for  help  and  instruction. 
Holding  my  Bible  open  in  my  hands,  there 
came  a  strong  wind  from  the  door,  blowing  the 
pages  all  together,  so  that  all  could  see  that 
nothing  Avas  selected  by  me  ;  and  as  I  lifted  my 
eyes  upward,  and  asked  God  to  guide  me  to  some 
passage  of  Scripture  that  should  be  adapted  to 
the  wants  of  that  people,  my  eye  fell  on  these 
words,  "And  thou,  profane,  wicked  prince  of 
Israel,  whose  day  is  come,  when  iniquity  shall 
have  an  end,  thus  saith  the  Lord  God  :  Remove 
the  diadem,  and  take  off  the  crown ;  this  shall 
not  be  the  same  ;  exalt  him  that  is  low,  and 
abase  him  that  is  high.  I  will  overturn,  over- 
turn, overturn  it :  and  it  shall  be  no  more,  until 
he  come  whose  right  it  is ;  and  I  will  give  it 
him."  Ezek.  xxi.  25-27. 

I  should  not  have  selected  this  passage  as  a 
text,  but  as  I  had  asked  divine  guidance,  I  did 
not  dare  to  take  another ;  and  the  Scriptures 
opened  before  my  mind,  and  I  went  on  to  tell 
of  the  overthrow  of  the  kingdom  of  Israel,  and 
of  the  overturnings  of  the  different  kingdoms, 

199 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

and  to  show  that  man's  kingdoms  were  to  be 
overturned  until  Christ's  kingdom  should  come, 
when  He  "whose  right  it  is,"  shall  come  and 
take  the  throne  and  reign  forevermore.  I 
felt  that  God's  Spirit  was  guiding  in  the  words 
I  said,  and  though  I  had  no  help  from  any 
source,  with  the  exception  of  my  beloved  sister 
in  Christ  at  my  side,  I  felt  God's  guiding  hand 
upon  me,  leading  my  mind  and  teaching  me 
what  to  say.  The  hearts  of  the  people  were 
already  softened,  and  the  words  spoken  moved 
them  to  fears.  The  house  was  well  filled,  and 
still  many  were  standing  outside.  I  told  them 
that  I  had  not  come  to  spy  out  the  country,  or 
to  make  them  any  worse  off ;  but  to  do  them 
good,  to  build  up  day-schools  and  Sunday- 
schools,  and  help  them  with  books  and  needful 
things  ;  that  my  mission  was  not  one  of  war, 
but  of  love  and  peace. 

As  I  told  them  the  story  of  my  mission,  they 
were  melted  to  great  tenderness.  Surely  God 
was  with  me,  and  the  Lord  sent  his  angel  before 
me  to  prepare  the  way.  The  hearts  of  the 
people  were  moved ;  the  minister,  who  before 
was  so  suspicious  of  the  "Boston  woman,"  broke 
down  and  wept,  and  arose  and  acknowledged 
me  as  a  sister  in  the  Lord.  He  told  the  people 

that  what  I  said  was  truth  ;  that  he  had  read  it 

200 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

many  times,  and  believed  what  I  said,  and  was 
glad  to  hear  me.  There  were  several  preachers 
present,  and  a  Methodist  brother  came  to  me 
and  invited  me  to  go  to  his  church  in  the 
evening. 

After  the  meeting  closed  we  started  to  go  to 
this  minister's  church,  and  looking  behind,  we 
saw  a  large  company  following  us  on  foot. 
Very  few  had  horses,  as  nearly  all  of  the  horses 
and  mules  were  killed  in  the  time  of  the  war ; 
but  we  were  glad  to  see  them  sufficiently  inter- 
ested to  come  five  miles  on  foot  to  hear  the 
word  of  the  Lord. 

As  we  gathered  at  the  church,  we  found  it 
was  too  small  for  the  people  ;  they  filled  up  the 
church  and  many  were  outside.  I  took  my 
stand  in  the  door-way  and  talked  to  them  of 
the  history  of  the  world  as  foreshadowed  in  the 
prophecy  of  Daniel.  The  Lord  helped  me,  and 
the  word  wTas  made  plain  to  them,  so  that  they 
understood  the  message.  From  this  time,  for 
two  weeks,  we  held  meetings  every  night,  in 
different  places,  from  five  to  ten  miles  apart, 
and  only  twice  in  the  same  place.  T\'e  after- 
wards learned  that  there  were  about  forty  who 
started  to  serve  the  Lord  at  that  time. 

Arrangements  were  subsequently  made  for 
schools,  and  after  a  pleasant  visit  among  the 
201 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

people    we   turned   our  faces   back  to    South 
Carolina  again. 

A  TRIP   TO    TENNESSEE. 

Near  the  close  of  the  year  1869,  after  return- 
ing from  North  Carolina,  I  received  a  letter 
from  Tennessee,  begging  me  to  come  over  and 
help  them.  It  seemed  duty  to  respond  to  the 
call,  and  after  making  suitable  arrangements 
for  the  work  in  South  Carolina,  I  started  for 
Charleston,  Jan.  3,  1870,  spending  the  night 
thereat  the  Orphan  Asylum  with  sister  Bourn, 
the  matron  ;  and  starting  westward  the  follow- 
ing morning,  and  arriving  at  Red  Clay,  Georgia, 
close  to  the  Tennessee  line,  about  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  January  6,  1870.  The  friends 
had  been  looking  for  me  to  come  from  the  oppo- 
site direction,  and  as  I  came  on  a  train  from 
the  south  they  were  not  expecting  me  at  that 
time.  So  I  left  the  railway  train,  and  found 
myself  alone  in  the  snow,  which  was  quite  deep, 
and  surrounded  by  darkness — a  stranger  in  a 
strange  place. 

Inquiring  of  one  of  the  train  hands  if  there 
was  a  depot  there,  he  said, 

"Yes,  up  yonder." 

"I  peered  through  the  gloom,  but  could  see 
nothing  distinctly,  and  started  on  toward  a  dim 

light  in  the  distance. 

202 


"WAITING    OUTSIDE,    SHIVF.BING    WITH    THE    COLD." 


Page  3T,. 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

After  tugging  my  heavy  bag  and  basket  some 
distance  through  the  snow,  I  at  last  saw  a  man, 
and  said  to  him, 

"Sir,  have  they  no  depot  in  this  place?" 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "but  the  man  who  keeps  it 
is  asleep  ;  but  there  is  a  hotel  across  the  way, 
and  that  is  where  he  lives." 

I  went  over,  and  standing  at  the  entrance, 
began  to  rattle  the  gate,  making  an  effort  to 
arouse  some  one,  when  the  man  said, 

"Be  careful,  for  they  have  some  dogs  there 
that  are  pretty  savage  if  you  should  arouse 
them." 

Of  course  I  knew  what  that  meant,  so  I  stood 
quietly,  chilled  with  the  cold,  and  hoping  that 
some  one  would  come  to  my  relief.  The  man 
to  whom  I  had  spoken,  had  a  store  across  the 
way,  and  a  good  fire  in  it.  He  soon  came  out 
and  went  over  the  hill,  perhaps  for  his  break- 
fast. All  the  time  he  was  gone,  I  was  waiting 
outside,  shivering  with  the  cold.  When  he 
returned,  he  saw  me,  and  said, 

"Why!  haven't  they  opened  to  you  yet? 
Are  you  not  cold?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  am." 

Had  you  not  better  come  across  the  way,  and 
warm  you  by  my  fire  ?'' 

I  felt  a  little  timid  about  going  into  a  strange 
203 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

place,  but  I  felt  that  I  could  only  die,  and  I 
surely  should  if  I  stood  there  much  longer.  So 
I  entered  his  store,  and  seating  myself  by  a 
blazing  fire,  asked  him  if  he  was  a  Christian. 
He  said, 

"No,  but  I  wish  I  was." 

"He  told  me  his  story,  saying  that  he  had  just 
lost  his  beloved  wife,  and  was  in  deep  affliction. 
Looking  around,  I  saw  a  copy  of  THE  CHRIS- 
TIAN lying  there,  and  knew  that  the  Lord  had 
gone  before  me  to  prepare  my  way.  I  gave 
him  such  words  of  consolation  as  I  could  impart, 
and  he  finally  asked  me  if  my  name  was  not 
Hastings,  and  told  me  that  they  had  been  look- 
ing for  me  to  come  on  the  train  from  the  north. 
As  the  morning  drew  on,  the  people  at  the 
hotel  began  to  stir,  and  I  went  there,  and  was 
warmly  received  by  kind  Christian  friends,  who 
had  been  informed  of  my  coming,  and  were 
ready  to  entertain  me.  The  next  morning  the 
friends  who  had  written  to  me,  came  and  took 
me  to  the  place  which  I  had  been  desired  to 
visit.  This  part  of  Tennessee  had  been  during 
the  war  a  kind  of  debatable  ground.  We  were 
close  by  what  was  formerly  known  as  the  Cher- 
okee country,  from  which  the  Cherokee  Indians 
were  forcibly  removed,  years  before ;  and  the 
region  round  about  had  been  occupied  alter- 
204 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

nately  by  Federal  and  Confederate  soldiers. 
From  time  to  time  the  tide  of  war  had  rolled 
backward  and  forward  over  these  hills  and  val- 
leys, and  the  people,  who  were  themselves 
peaceably  inclined,  had  suffered  much  during 
the  unhappy  years  that  were  past ;  and  though 
by  no  means  in  such  abject  poverty  as  some  of 
the  people  of  South  Carolina,  they  were  yet  in 
trying  circumstances,  where  a  little  help  was 
acceptable  to  start  them  anew,  and  assist  them 
to  recover  from  the  wreck  and  confusion  result- 
ing from  the  war. 

I  was  most  kindly  received  by  the  com- 
munity, was  invited  to  speak  in  the  different 
churches,  and  was  thus  introduced  to  the 
people.  Having  with  me  Sunday-school  books 
and  requisites,  we  started  a  Sunday-school ;  and 
I  soon  sent  for  brother  Wolcott  F.  Smith  and 
his  wife  to  come  and  take  charge  of  this  and  a 
week-day  school,  which  they  did,  remaining 
there  some  time.  In  the  month  of  February  my 
husband  came  down  and  preached  in  different 
places  in  that  region,  finding  an  open  door  set 
before  him,  and  an  ear  to  hear  the  message  of 
God's  grace.  When  he  had  finished  his  work 
there,  we  returned  again  to  our  field  of  labor 
in  South  Carolina. 

The  following  brief  sketch    of  his   southern 

205 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

trip,  taken  from  THE  CHRISTIAN  for  April  and 
May,  1870,  will  give  a  faint  idea  of  the  work 
in  which  we  were  engaged. 

A   SOUTHERN   TRIP. 

On  the  26th  of  February,  having  arranged 
the  work  of  the  Repository  with  reference  to  a 
brief  absence,  we  turned  our  faces  from  the 
snow  storms  that  were  raging  around  us,  and 
started  for  the  sunny  South.  A  dedication  ser- 
vice on  the  way ;  a  night  ride  to  New  York, 
and  one  by  day  to  Philadelphia ;  a  sermon  there  ; 
another  night  ride  to  Washington  ;  a  few  hours 
spent  in  visiting  friends  and  seeing  the  sights  ; 
a  couple  of  meetings  and  a  hearty  greeting  at 
the  rooms  of  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Asso- 
ciation ;  a  discourse  in  the  English  Lutheran 
church  ;  a  night's  rest,  an  early  start,  and  a  long 
day's  ride  through  places  bearing  the  historic 
names  of  Fairfax,  Manassas,  Brandy  Station, 
Rappahannock,  Culpepper,  Rapidan,  and  Char- 
lottesville,  to  Lynchburg,  made  agreeable  by 
the  company  of  Rev.  A.  B.  Earle,  the  evangel- 
ist, who  was  bound  southward  to  preach  the 
gospel  there  ;  a  night's  repose  at  the  Washing- 
ton hotel ;  another  ride  in  company  with  an 
intelligent  Virginia  clergyman  through  Concord, 
Appomattox,  Prospect,  over  the  half-mile 
206 


Incidents   in  Southern   Work. 

wooden  bridge  a  hundred  and  thirty  feet  high,  to 
Fartnville  and  Burkesville ;  thence  onward, 
through  Keyesville  and  Roanokc,  to  Boston, 
Va.  ;  a  modest  greeting  from  a  stranger,  and 
an  eight  miles' ride  over  somewhat  heavy  roads 
in  his  Virginia  "carryall,"  a  vehicle  bearing  a 
marked  resemblance  to  what  we  call  a  "lumber 
wagon,"  and  behind  a  mule  whose  consistent 
and  unvarying  moderation  contrasted  strongly 
with  the  energetic  though  futile  efforts  of  his 
driver  to  accelerate  his  speed  ; — and  we  found 
ourselves  landed  in  the  early  evening  of  March 
4,  1870,  at  a  dwelling  where  dusky  faces 
smiled  a  greeting  as  they  named  our  name,  and 
where  well-known  friends,  beloved  and  treas- 
ured, gave  to  us  the  welcome  of  hand  and 
voice,  as  we  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  upper 
room  which  constitutes  their  mission  home. 

A  refreshing  meal ;  a  pleasant  conversation 
on  the  past  and  passing  labors,  joys,  and  toils  ; 
a  sweet  night's  rest  in  a  bed  laid  on  the  floor, 
beneath  a  roof  through  which  the  night  wind 
swept  freely  but  softly,  and  the  daylight 
streamed  in  like  star-beams,  in  the  morning, 
and  we  awoke  refreshed,  and  ready  to  take  our 
first  look  at  the  mission  work,  which,  in  this 
locality,  for  the  past  two  winters  had  been  car- 
ried on  by  our  devoted  sisters,  Marianna  and 
207 


Incidents   in  Southern   Work, 

Sarah  F.  Sanborn,  assisted,  the  present  season, 
by  Miss  Sarah  J.  Cole. 

It  was  Saturday,  and  the  wearied  teachers 
were  freed  from  their  school  labors,  and  so  in 
the  morning  we  walked  over  the  hills  and  vales 
to  the  school-house,  a  plain,  oblong  structure, 
twenty  by  forty  feet,  built  of  hewn  logs,  chinked 
within  with  plaster,  and  without  with  mud ; 
shingled,  and  well  lighted  with  windows,  over 
which  board  shutters  were  closed. 

We  were  honored  to  bear  the  key  and  open 
the  door,  and  enter  in  and  take  a  look  at  the 
surroundings.  The  middle  partition  of  sliding 
doors,  separating  the  two  schools,  was  thrown 
back,  and  the  whole  was  arranged  as  one  con- 
venient room.  Precious  words  of  grace  and 
truth  from  the  sacred  volume  adorned  the  Avails 
of  the  apartment,  at  one  end  of  which  our  mod- 
esty was  dashed  by  seeing  an  evergreen  arch, 
in  which  we  read, — 

"WELCOME  TO  H.  L.  H." 

We  looked  about  the  premises,  walked  around 
the  borders  of  the  little  field  that  had  been 
purchased  on  which  to  erect  the  house,  returned 
to  the  school-house  and  bowed  the  knee  to  im- 
plore a  blessing  on  the  work  and  workers,  and 
then  we  walked,  in  the  warm  sunshine,  so 
208 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

different  from  the  nothern  snows  and  storms, 
to  the  quiet  of  the  mission  home  again. 

Then  came  the  "multitude."  Nine  barrels 
of  supplies  were  received  from  the  Repository 
three  or  four  days  before,  and  they  were  not 
all  distributed, — and  where  the  carcass  is  the 
eagles  will  gather.  It  has  been  rather  a  quiet 
day,  but  perhaps  thirty  persons  have  come  in 
since  morning.  A  boy  brings  a  basket  of  eggs 
"for  the  teachers  ;"  a  girl  comes  in  with  a  bottle 
of  milk,  and  some  one  else  fetches  a  pail,  out 
of  which  comes  a  chicken.  Daily  bread  is  thus 
given  to  the  workers — brought  with  gratitude, 
and  received  with  thanks.  Then  come  the 
poor,  from  a  circuit  of  four,  six,  and  ten  miles, 
asking  for  clothes.  Up  and  down  the  stairs 
that  lead  to  that  mysterious  attic,  into  which  no 
uninitiated  eyes  are  ever  suffered  to  look,  trip 
the  willing  feet  of  the  teachers  again  and  again  ; 
and  with  each  return,  some  poor  heart  is  glad- 
dened by  shoes  for  bare  feet,  hats  for  bare 
heads,  jackets  and  pants  for  boys  whose  clothes 
would  be  a  fortune  to  the  owner  of  a  beggar's 

CO 

museum,  and  all  the  varied  articles  of  men's 
and  women's  wear;  something  for  the  sick 
baby  at  home,  and  nobody  can  tell  what  else, 
to  satisfy  the  needs  of  those  who  want  every 

thing  you  can  think  of,  and  are  glad  of  any  thing 
209 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

they  can  get.  Many  are  turned  away.  Keen 
eyes  look  through  shams,  and  good  memories 
are  useful  to  recall  faces  that  have  been  seen 
before ;  but  orphans  and  widows,  and  the  sick 
and  the  needy,  are  supplied  as  best  they  can  be, 
until  the  word  must  be  spoken,  "Clothes  all 
gone  !"  and  then  the  crowd  will  subside.  But 
still  from  time  to  time  poor  creatures  will  come 
from  a  distance  of  six,  and  eight,  and  ten  miles, 
ragged,  destitute,  and  needy,  and  it  is  a  matter 
of  wonder  how  many  do  get  relief,  after  every 
thing  is  gone  !  Somehow  a  jacket  gets  fished 
out  of  a  dark  corner,  just  in  time  for  some  poor 
little  fellow  who  sorely  needs  it;  and  again,  a 
pair  of  old  shoes  are  discovered  where  no  one 
thought  of  looking  before  ;  and  finally,  as  a  last 
resort,  the  teachers'  garments  get  "parted,"  and 
divided  among  some  of  the  most  needy,  and 
the  others  must  wait  till  fresh  supplies  arrive. 

Evening  comes,  and  we  gather  in  the  school- 
house  to  worship  the  Most  High.  Hymns, 
sweet  and  holy,  rise  from  the  reverent  wor- 
shipers. 

"What  a  friend  we  have  in  Jesus," 

tells  the  trust  of  many  a  tossed  and  troubled 
heart,  \vhile  others  in  the  joy  of  Christian  con- 


fidence sing : 


210 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

"We  shall  walk  through  the  valley  in  peace, 

We  shall  walkthrough  the  valley  in  peace; 
If  Jesus  himself  will  he  our  guide, 

We  shall  walk  through  the  valley  in  peace." 

"We  bow  in  silent  prayer,  and  then  desires 
flow  forth  in  words  of  supplication.  The  coun- 
sels of  Inspiration  as  recorded  in  1  Peter  ii., 
are  rehearsed  and  expounded  to  those  who,  "as 
free,"  are  not  to  use  their  "liberty  for  a  cloak 
of  maliciousness,  but  as  the  servants  of  God ;" 
— and  with  prayers  and  praises  the  congrega- 
tion is  dismissed. 

A  half  a  mile  through  fields,  moist  with 
Virginia  mud,  is  not  the  pleasantest  walk,  but 
a  torch-bearer  goes  before  us,  carrying  his 
stick  of  "light  wood,"  or  "fat  pine,"  and 
singing,  with  his  company,  as  they  escort  us 
home.  We  enter  our  domicile  ;  the  procession 
still  moves  onward  with  the  voice  of  song,  and 
gazing  from  our  windows  we  see  the  sheen  of 
torches  through  the  forest  shades,  and  catch 
the  deep  and  swelling  notes  of  the  departing 
worshipers  as  they  sing, — 

*'  The  last  lovely  morning, 

All  blooming  and  fair, 
Is  fast  onward  fleeting, 
And  soon  will  appear. 
While  the  mighty,  mighty,  mighty  trump 

Sounds,  *  Come,  come  away ;' 
Oh !  let  us  be  ready  to  hail  the  glad  day '  " 
211 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

Sunday  morning,  March  6th. — A  rainy,  chilly 
day ;  sleety  and  snowy,  as  if  winter  was  mar- 
shaling its  last  reserves,  and  leading  its  broken 
columns  to  the  final  fray.  Out-of-door  preach- 
ing is  out  of  the  question,  and  many  who  would 
have  gathered  around  in  the  brightness  of  a 
sunny  day,  remain  in  their  distant  homes.  The 
crowd  is  absent,  yet  the  house  is  well  filled 
with  attentive  listeners  and  worshipers. 

First  comes  the  Sunday-school ;  its  ranks  are 
thinned  by  the  storm,  and  perhaps  not  more 
than  a  hundred  scholars  are  present.  Still  the 
interest  is  good.  Prayer  is  offered.  Familiar 
hymns  that  carry  us  away  to  other  scenes,  are 
sweetly  sung.  Then  the  whole  school  repeat 
in  concert  the  first  verse  they  ever  learned, 
"God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only 
begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  belie veth  in  him 
should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life." 
Other  passages  follow,  repeated  with  a  precision 
that  would  do  credit  to  almost  any  school ; — 
and  were  especially  noteworthy  in  children, 
many  of  whom  had  never  before  attended 
school,  and  had  only  learned  to  read  during 
the  past  two  winters  ; — other  hymns  were  sung, 
questions  asked  and  answered,  lengthy  passages 
of  Scripture,  were  repeated  as  lessons  from 
memory,  by  intelligent  children  and  young 
212 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

people ;  and  we  noticed  a  father,  covering  his 
face  to  hide  his  tears  of  joy,  as  his  son,  im- 
proving such  opportunities  as  the  father  never 
had  enjoyed,  recited  his  long  lesson,  Jearned 
from  the  sacred  Scriptures. 

The  Sunday-school  closed,  but  the  children 
were  invited  to  remain  and  listen  to  a  sermon 
which  was  addressed  to  them,  as  well  as  to 
their  parents,  from  the  words,  "All  thy  chil- 
dren shall  be  taught  of  the  Lord,  and  great 
shall  be  the  peace  of  thy  children ;"  in  which 
the  benefits  and  blessings  of  divine  instruction 
were  made  the  subject  for  remark. 

In  the  afternoon  the  assembly  listened  to  a 
practical  admonition  upon  the  importance  of 
improving  present  opportunities,  and  walking 
in  the  light  while  privileged  to  enjoy  it ;  and  a 
season  of  social  worship  at  night  closed  the 
duties  of  the  day. 

The  three  following  days  and  evenings  were 
busily  employed.  The  school  must  be  visited, 
and  the  precious  fruits  of  months  of  arduous 
toil  observed  ;  calls  were  to  be  made  among  the 
proprietors  in  the  vicinity,  whose  cordial  wel- 
comes and  courteous  invitations  "were  appre- 
ciated, though  our  time  was  too  short  to  visit 
all  who  desired  to  see  us ;  discourses  were 
preached  to  assemblies  of  all  classes,  who 
213 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

listened  with  attention  to  that  Word  which 
declares  that,  "The  rich  and  poor  meet  together  : 
the  Lord  is  the  maker  of  them  all ;' '  and  who 
heard  fVom  the  fifth  chapter  of  the  epistle  of 
James,  not  only  the  divine  condemnation  of 
covetousness,  robbery,  and  wrong,  but  also 
exhortations  to  be  "patient  unto  the  coming 
of  the  Lord,"  and  to  grudge  not  one  against 
another  while  the  Judge  was  even  standing  at 
the  door.  All  classes  were  respectful  and  kind  ; 
the  practical  cautions  and  admonitions  given 
were  received  with  an  attention  that  gave  prom- 
ise of  profit  and  improvement ;  many  souls 
expressed  their  desires  to  lead  a  new  and  better 
life ;  seed  sown  in  the  Sunday-school  and 
prayer-meeting  by  faithful  teachers,  seemed  to 
spring  up  to  sudden  fruitfulness,  and  at  the 
close  of  the  last  meeting  perhaps  from  fifty  to 
seventy-five  persons  arose  and  expressed  their 
purpose  to  start  and  serve  the  Lord,  and  their 
desire  to  be  remembered  in  the  prayers  of  his 
people. 

We  bade  them  farewell  with  regret ;  sat  and 
talked  till  late  at  night  of  the  work  and  the 
condition  of  affairs  with  workers  and  friends 
around  the  fireside  ;  mounted  a  horse  in  the 
early  morning  for  an  eight-mile  ride  to  the  sta- 
tion ;  took  the  cars  for  Burkesville  and  Lynch- 
214 


Incidents   in  Southern   Work. 

burg ;  thence  rode  through  a  weary  night  and  a 
tiresome  day,  on  a  train  crowded  with  people, 
white  and  black,  bound  South  and  West,  among 

7  o 

whom  we  scattered  tracts  and  papers  with  a 
liberal  hand,  till  on  Friday  evening,  as  our 
train  halted  on  the  boundary  line  of  Tennessee 
and  Georgia,  the  strange  but  friendly  voice  of 
Mr.  J.  H.  Huff  pronounced  our  name,  saying 
some  one  was  waiting  near  there  for  us.  A  few 
steps  brought  us  to  his  house,  on  the  piazza  of 
which  stood  the  partner  of  our  joys  and  toils 
and  conflicts,  whose  greeting  was  as  joyful  as 
our  parting  had  been  sad  five  months  before, 
when  she  went  forth  to  do  her  appointed  work 
in  the  southern  field.  We  had  bee;i  separated 
nearly  half  a  year,  had  journeyed  far  and  wide, 
and  now  met  a  thousand  miles  away  from 
children,  home,  and  friends,  wearied  with  jour- 
neyings,  and  worn  with  cares  and  toils;  but  we 
were  in  comfortable  health,  and  did  not  lack  a 
greeting  or  a  home  ;  and  we  thanked  the  Lord 
who  had  permitted  us  once  more  to  meet,  and 
again  to  be  associated  in  Christian  labor  in  the 
gospel  field. 

Saturday  was  spent  in  resting,  reading,  writ- 
ing, and  talking  of  past  tribulations,    present 
trials,  and  coming  hopes.    Our  host  had  known 
enough  of  "  war  preaching."  and  war  practice 
215 


Incidents   in  Southern    Work. 

too.  Located  at  the  railway  station  on  the 
Tennessee  and  Georgia  boundary,  between 
Cleveland  and  Dalton,  they  had  enjoyed  the 
full  benefit  of  military  visitations  from  both 
Federal  and  Confederate  forces.  He  had  slept 
out  of  doors,  dodged  about,  run  for  his  life  in 
stocking  feet  over  rough  and  frozen  roads,  and 
found  refuge  where  he  could ;  and  his  wife  had 
remained  at  home  with  her  little  ones,  cooked 
food  for  hungry  soldiers  of  both  armies, 
watched,  prayed,  suffered,  plead,  and  possessed 
her  soul  in  patience  as  best  she  might,  during 
those  tedious,  dark,  and  bloody  days.  A  well- 
worn  copy  of  our  volume,  "  The  Signs  of  the 
Times,"  lying  on  the  counter  of  his  store,  ob- 
tained long  ago  with  pains  and  trouble,  was  a 
sufficient  introduction  for  me,  and  his  wife  was 
no  stranger  to  the  hope  of  the  coming  and  reign 
of  Him  in  whose  days  "  shall  the  righteous 
flourish  ;  and  abundance  of  peace  so  long  as  the 
moon  endureth." 

On  Sunday  a  respectable  congregation  of 
preachers,  elders,  and  brethren  assembled  in  a 
neighboring  Presbyterian  church,  and  listened 
attentively  to  the  glad  tidings  of  the  coming 
kingdom  of  our  God  ;  and  at  night  the  spacious 
railroad  dining-saloon  of  our  host  was  flung 
open  to  an  intelligent  assembly,  who  gave 
216 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

audience  to  an  exposition  of  the  second  chapter 
of  Titus. 

On  Monday  night  we  mounted  horse  with 
our  host,  and  rode  five  miles  to  fill  an  appoint- 
ment in  a  church  located  in  one  of  the  camp- 
meeting  groves  of  the  Cumberland  Presbyte- 
rians. It  was  a  rough-looking  structure,  guilt- 
less of  paint,  and  innocent  of  any  daubing  with 
"  mortar"  of  any  kind,  and  was  occupied  as  an 
academy  during  the  day-time.  The  pastor 
received  us  kindly,  and  a  respectable  congre- 
gation of  healthy-looking  young  men  and 
women  paid  good  attention  to  a  discourse  on 
coming  judgment,  from  the  words  of  the  wise 
man,  "Rejoice,  O  young  man,  in  thy  youth; 
and  let  thy  heart  cheer  thee  in  the  days  of  thy 
youth,  and  walk  in  the  ways  of  thine  heart, 
and  in  the  sight  of  thine  eyes  ;  but  know  thou, 
that  for  all  these  things  God  will  brino-  thee 

O  O 

into  judgment."     Ecclesiastes  xi.  9. 

Closing  our  service,  and  making  our  usual 
distribution  of  tracts  among  the  hearers,  we 
rode  homeward  through  the  moonlight,  fording 
the  streams  we  came  to,  and  leaving  our  student 
friends  to  sit  around  their  cabin  fires  and  con 
over  the  good  words  which  we  were  privileged 
to  leave  behind  us  as  we  journeyed  on  our  way. 

Work  here  is  abundant,  and  time  is  short ; 
217 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

our  projected  journey  is  not  yet  half  accom- 
plished ;  but  we  halt  here  to  preach  the  gospel 
in  the  region  round  about,  and  then  go  forward 
to  visit  other  laborers  in  distant  fields  of  toil 
and  conflict.  Pray  for  us,  that  the  Lord  may 
go  with  us  to  search  us  out  a  place  to  pitch  our 
tents,  and  show  us  in  what  way  we  should  go. 
Deut.  i.  33. 

Concluding  our  stay  at  the  house  of  Mr. 
HufF,  we  bade  adieu  to  his  kind  family.  Tuesday, 
March  15th,  and  after  a  ride  of  two  hours  in  a 
wagon  drawn  by  a  mule,  through  rain  and  mud, 
we  reached  our  next  place  of  labor,  where  a 
welcome  was  awaiting  us  from  friends  both  new 
and  old,  known  and  unknown. 

Fifteen  years  ago  Ave  edited  and  published  a 
volume  called,  "THE  VOICE  or  THE  CHURCH, 
on  the  Coming  and  Kingdom  of  the  Re- 
deemer, or  a  history  of  the  Doctrine  of  the 
Reign  of  Christ  on  Earth."  The  issue  of  this, 
our  first  book,  undertaken  without  adequate 
means,  involved  us  in  some  slight  embarrass- 
ment, and  at  one  time  we  did  not  see  just  how 
we  were  to  meet  a  note  which  was  maturing  in 
one  of  the  New  York  banks. 

One  day,  November  6,  1856,  when  the 
matter  had  pressed  upon  us  sufficiently  to 
affect  our  health,  it  was  made  a  special  subject 
218 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

of  prayer  around  the  family  altar ;  Mrs.  Has- 
tings in  particular,  praying  with  faith  and 
earnestness  for  help. 

Directly  we  received  a  letter  from  a  stranger 
in  Maine,  containing  $5,  sent  as  a  gift  to  aid  in 
circulating  books.  The  letter  was  dated  No- 
vember 6th  !  A  day  or  two  later  came  a  similar 
letter  from  a  stranger  in  Pennsylvania,  con- 
taining a  like  amount,  and  dated  November 
6th  ;  and  a  little  after  came  one  from  Tennessee, 
enclosing  an  order  for  a  hundred  copies  of 
"The  Voice  of  the  Church;"  and  this  letter, 
also,  was  dated  November  7,  1856  ! 

We  planted  an  Ebenezer  at  November  6th, 
paid  our  bills,  and  went  on  our  way  rejoicing. 
Hundreds  of  copies  of  "The  Voice"  were 
afterwards  sent  in  the  same  direction,  and 
scattered  throughout  the  South  and  South-west. 

About  the  same  time  an  aged  Christian  man 
with  a  numerous  family,  moved  into  a  locality 
quite  deficient  in  religious  and  educational 
privileges,  and  undertook  to  diffuse  what  light 
he  could.  Blessings  attended  the  endeavor, 
and  a  meeting-house  and  school-house  were 
erected  in  the  vicinity.  In  the  providence  of 
God,  after  some  years,  a  copy  of  "The  Voice 
of  the  Church"  fell  into  the  hands  of  this 
aged  brother,  and,  with  other  volumes  on  this 
219 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

subject,  led  him  to  a  better  understanding  of 
the  gospel  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  the 
hope  of  the  waiting  church.  Other  members 
of  the  family  shared  in  the  instruction,  and  a 
son,  who  had  entered  the  ministry,  was  also  led 
to  a  careful  investigation  and  more  perfect 
knowledge  of  the  sacred  Scriptures. 

The  war  came  ;  but  having  learned  of  Him 
who  said,  "My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world; 
if  my  kingdom  were  of  this  world  then  would 
my  servants  fight,  that  I  should  not  be  delivered 
to  the  Jews  ;  but  now  is  my  kingdom  not  from 
hence,"  they  could  take  no  part  in  the  fratri- 
cidal strife.  Hence  they  were  regarded  with 
suspicion  by  both  contending  parties,  and  ex- 
posed to  loss  on  either  side.  The  war  closed, 
and  after  months  of  endeavor,  they  succeeded, 
through  the  assistance  of  God's  Guiding  Hand, 
in  obtaining  our  address  and  opening  communi- 
cation with  the  SCRIPTURAL  TEACT  REPOSI- 
TORY. They  were  isolated,  and  to  some  extent 
separated  from  former  associations,  and  felt  the 
need  of  sympathy  and  aid.  Correspondence 
ensued.  Tracts  and  publications  were  sent  in 
quantities.  Bibles  were  needed,  and  their  ap- 
plication, laid  before  the  American  Bible 
Society  of  New  York,  met  with  a  prompt  and 
generous  response.  They  had  been  destitute 

220 


Incidents   in  Southern   Work. 

of  schools  for  five  years,  and  the  impoverish- 
ment of  the  war  left  them  unable  to  meet  this 
urgent  need;  and  in  compliance  with  their 
earnest  request  Mrs.  Hastings  had  visited  them 
and  made  the  needful  arrangements  for  a  school, 
spending  also  a  number  of  weeks  laboring  "in 
the  gospel "  among  the  people  there.  And 
now,  brother  W.  F.  Smith  and  his  wife  had  just 
arrived  from  South  Carolina  and  taken  posses- 
sion of  the  log  house  assigned  to  them,  and 
commenced  their  school ;  and  last  of  all  we 
were  permitted  to  enter  "into  their  labors." 

We  need  not  say  we  received  a  greeting. 
Our  aged  friend,  Caleb  Smith,  now  about  four- 
score years  old,  with  some  thirty  or  forty  of 
his  descendants  and  family  connections  Avho 
resided  in  the  vicinity  ;  his  son  who  had  come 
from  his  field  of  gospel  labor  in  another  state  ; 
another  preacher,  a  reader  of  THE  CHRISTIAN, 
who  had  journeyed  a  hundred  miles  to  meet  us, 
with  brother  A.  C.  Locke,  from  Maine,  whose 
face  was  like  iron  that  "sharpeneth  iron;" 
brother  W.  F.  Smith  and  wife,  newly  arrived, 
and  strangers  in  a  strange  land  ;  Mrs.  Hastings, 
who  had  gone  thither  the  day  before ;  and 
numerous  other  kind  and  Christian  people  in 
the  neighborhood, — all  gave  us  a  welcome  not 


to  be  forgotten. 


221 


Incidents   in  Southern    Work. 

"We  were  soon  at  work ;  preaching  on  the 
successive  evenings  in  three  different  churches, 
and  also  in  the  house  of  our  aged  friend ; 
holding  meetings  for  worship  and  scriptural 
instruction  in  the  afternoon  ;  visiting  from  house 
to  house,  encouraging  the  young  to  improve 
their  opportunities,  and  to  remember  their 
Creator ;  and  arranging  as  best  we  might,  for 
work  to  be  carried  on.  We  spent  pleasant  days 
and  nights  among  this  people,  and  enjoyed 
their  fellowship  in  Christian  life  and  labor. 

Sunday,  March  20th,  came,  bright  and  sunny, 
and  from  far  and  near  the  inhabitants  gathered 
and  crowded  the  rough,  dingy,  unpainted, 
unplastered,  and  unceiled  house  of  worship,  to 
listen  to  the  words  of  grace  and  truth.  Some 
half  a  dozen  preachers  of  different  denomina- 
tions were  present  to  hear  the  word,  and  bear 
their  friendly  testimony  ;  the  simple  story  of  a 
Saviour's  love  was  told  to  perishing  men,  and 
the  gospel  of  the  kingdom  was  proclaimed  with 
plainness  of  speech.  Tracts  and  copies  of  THE 
CHRISTIAN  were  scattered  freely  among  the 
eager  multitude ;  Testaments  were  distributed 
to  those  who  had  none,  and  after  two  discourses 
we  parted  from  the  congregation,  never  to  meet 
them  all  again  till  the  trump  of  God  shall  sound. 

In  the  evening  a  quiet  hour  was  enjoyed  with 
222 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

a  few  disciples  around  the  table  of  the  Lord — 
some  half  a  dozen  preachers,  with  a  number  of 
Christian  believers,  assembling  in  the  mission 
home  to  remember  Him  in  whom  the  saints  are 
one.  The  Master's  presence  cheered  our  feast, 
and  the  merciful  providences  which  had  brought 
us  to  see  that  hour  were  marked  with  grateful 
recollection. 

The  next  morning  was  filled  up  with  hand- 
shakings and  farewells,  and  in  the  afternoon  we 
visited  the  school,  which  Mrs.  H.  had  not  before 
been  able  to  call  upon.  We  were  pleased  with 
the  interest  manifested,  while  the  children  gave 
attention  to  our  words  of  counsel,  and  to  those 
of  our  aged  friend  who  had  been  used  of  the 
Lord  in  procuring  for  them  this  privilege  ;  and 
we  then  commended  them  to  God  in  prayer, 
and  separated.  The  grateful  children  wept  as 
if  they  were  parting  from  a  mother,  when 
bidding  Mrs.  H.  good-by.  A  few  parting  calls 
were  made  ;  old  and  young  gathered  in,  one  by 
one ,  to  say  kind  words  ;  children  and  parents 
came  with  thanks  and  benedictions ;  an  eve- 
ning hour  of  prayer  was  spent  in  the  dwelling 
of  our  aged  brother,  and  then  we  retired  for  a 
little  rest. 

Our  sleep  was  brief, — for  ten  miles  of  mud 
lay  between  us  and  the  railroad  station, — and 
223 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

so,  a  little  past  midnight  we  left  the  lounge  that 
had  served  us  as  our  bed,  and  prepared  for  our 
journey.  A  pair  of  mules,  a  lumber  wagon, 
and  a  good  driver,  were  soon  at  our  service  ; 
and  long  before  the  morning  dawn  we  had 
bidden  good-by  to  those  who  had  left  their  beds 
to  say  the  last  farewell,  and,  wrapped  in  shawls 
and  blankets,  we  were  plodding  along  our 
tedious  way  to  meet  the  morning  train.  The 
roads  were  bad,  the  night  chilly,  the  ground 
soft,  and  the  journey  tiresome  ;  but  the  moon- 
light struggled  through  the  fleeting  clouds,  and 
the  sunshine  of  the  Lord  was  on  our  secret 
hearts  as  we  set  forth  to  preach  the  gospel  in 
the  regions  beyond.  Ignorant  of  the  precise 
time  when  the  train  should  pass  the  station,  we 
knew  our  only  safety — like  that  of  the  men 
who  expect  the  Lord — was  in  being  ready  and 
waiting ;  hence  we  made  what  speed  we  could. 
Daylight  overtook  us  traveling  along  a  road 
which  lay  for  miles  upon  the  edge  of  an  up- 
turned rocky  stratum,  which  in  some  places 
ground  and  grated  beneath  our  wagon  wheels, 
and  in  others  was  covered  by  a  slight  layer  of 
soil  which  shielded  the  rock,  but  which  held  the 
fallen  rain  upon  its  surface  until  it  should  evap- 
orate. The  sunbeams,  mounting  over  the  edge 
of  White  Oak  Ridge,  struck  aslant  upon  our 
224 


Incidents  in  Southern  •  Work. 

path,  and  the  recollection  that  only  a  few  short 
months  before,  those  heights  were  swarming 
with  soldiers  and  crowned  with  the  lurid  light 
of  blazing  batteries,  whose  smoke  obscured  the 
heavens  and  whose  thunder  shook  the  earth  ; 
and  that  the  peaceful  village  which  lay  before 
us  with  its  blossoming  peach-trees  and  its 
verdant  fields,  was  lately  a  camp  of  soldiers 
and  a  scene  of  blood,  where  ruined  homes  and 
burning  habitations  revealed  the  horrors  of 
civil  strife  ; — all  these  things  conspired  to  im- 
press our  minds  with  the  blessedness  of  His 
kingdom  where  the  righteous  shall  flourish,  and 
there  shall  be  "abundance  of  peace  so  long  as 
the  moon  endure th." 

We  were  in  season  for  the  train,  and  soon 
were  on  our  southward  way  through  the  regions 
of  north-western  Georgia.  A  detention  of  three 
or  four  hours,  caused  by  the  wreck  of  a  freight 
train  before  us,  gave  us  opportunity  to  scatter 
tracts  and  make  acquaintances,  and  then  we 
were  away  again,  on  through  Dalton,  Kingston, 
etc.,  till  after  traveling  through  some  of  the 
finest  and  fairest  lands  we  saw  in  all  our  jour- 
ney, we  alighted,  late  in  the  afternoon,  at 
Cartersville,  Ga.,  and  met  our  friend  and 
brother,  J.  H.  Euckman,  who,  two  years 
before,  had  been  almost  a  daily  visitor  at  the 

225 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

Repository,  during  his  temporary  sojourn  in 
Boston. 

A  half-mile  walk  out  through  the  lanes  and 
pines  brought  us  to  his  shanty, — for  in  the 
time  of  the  war,  some  zealous  captain,  full  of 
patriotism  and  bad  whisky,  had  ordered  the 
soldiers  to  destroy  his  large  and  comfortable 
dwelling,  and  when  they  refused,  alleging  that 
this  was  not  the  place  they  were  ordered  to 
demolish,  he  set  fire  to  it  himself,  and  so  the 
comforts  of  wealth,  and  the  fruits  of  a  life- 
time's labor  were  swept  away  in  a  day.  He 
apologized  for  his  rough  habitation,  but  we 
told  him  it  was  better  than  the  average  of 
houses  and  cabins  we  had  seen  in  the  South ; 
and  the  hearty  and  courteous  hospitality  of  the 
family  made  us  feel  that  the  son  of  peace  was 
there,  and  that  our  peace  abode  in  the  lowly 
dwelling. 

The  next  day  brother  R.  H.  Walton  arrived, 
and  after  a  pleasant  converse  with  him  con- 
cerning his  field  of  labor,  We  walked  about 
the  town  to  see  what  opportunities  might 
present  themselves  for  gospel  work.  While 
our  host  was  making  a  journey  among  church 
officials  to  secure  a  place  to  preach,  at  our 
request  brother  Walton  obtained  permission  to 
occupy  the  platform  at  the  railroad  station,  and 
226 


Incidents   in  Southern    Work. 

feeling  moved  thereto,  we  mounted  a  pile  of 
planks  and  commenced  to  sing  a  hymn.  In  a 
tenth  part  of  the  time  it  would  require  to  hunt 
up  the  trustees  and  rulers  of  a  church,  we  had 
our  meeting-house,  appointment,  and  congre- 
gation all  ready.  It  was  court  week,  and 
pulpit,  bench,  bar,  and  bar-room  were  repre- 
sented in  the  assembly,  before  which  we  lifted 
up  the  ancient  cry  :  "Look  unto  me,  and  be  ye 
saved,  all  the  ends  of  the  earth."  Some  heard 
the  words  with  gladness,  and  scores  of  eager 
hands  were  outstretched  for  tracts  and  papers 
which  were  freely  scattered  among  the  crowd. 
At  niijht,  we  added  a  lantern  and  tallow 

O         7 

candle  to  our  list  of  conveniences,  and  again 
proclaimed  the  words  of  grace  and  truth ;  the 
following  noon  we  spoke  again,  and  appointed 
our  closing  service  about  six  o'clock  P.M.  A 
congregation  convened  ;  seats  were  free,  venti- 
lation perfect,  so  that  no  one  was  drowsy ;  and 
there  was  room  for  all,  and  nothing  to  pay. 

Taking  for  a  topic  the  beginning  and  the 
end,  as  illustrated  in  the  first  three  chapters  of 
Genesis  and  the  last  three  chapters  of  Revela- 
tion, we  endeavored  to  sketch  the  plan  of  God 
as  unfolded  in  his  word,  in  relation  to  the 
creation  of  the  world  and  mankind,  their  ruin 
by  sin,  the  redemption  through  Christ,  and 
227 


Incidents   in  Southern    Work. 

the  restitution  of  all  things  presented  to  view 
in  the  closing  pages  of  divine  revelation. 

Deep  and  tearful  interest  was  manifested  as 
we  considered  the  ruin,  bloodshed,  strife,  sin, 
of  a  world  estranged  from  God,  and  pointed 
them  to  the  coining  kingdom  and  the  glory  of 
the  saints'  eternal  home,  as  the  only  hope  for  a 
tossed  and  troubled  world.  * 

Distributing  the  remnant  of  our  tracts  and 
papers  among  the  people,  we  parted  from  our 
hearers,  not  without  kindly  words  of  encour- 
agement and  friendship,  and  sought  our  couch 
for  a  little  rest;  and  at  midnight,  with  Mrs. 
H.,  we  were  loaded  with  our  baggage  upon  the 
wagon  of  a  Christian  brother,  who  led  the  way 
carefully  through  the  woods  and  along  the  open 
road  to  the  depot,  where  we  took  the  train  to 
pursue  our  journey. 


*  A  letter  received  from  Georgia,  after  our  return,  contained  the 
following: 

"  I  trust  that  your  preaching  on  the  railway  platform  was  not  in 
vain ;  for  there  were  more  that  heard  you  than  I  was  at  first  aware  of, 
and  among  them  a  number  whom  I  thought  would  be  strongly  preju- 
diced against  one  who  is  not  only  a  northern  man,  but  also  not  denom- 
inationally connected  with  them. 

"Two  of  your  hearers  at  the  station  were  fined  by  the  judge  for 
tardinest  as  "grand  jurors,  as  your  preaching  detained  them  from  the 
court-house  after  their  names  were  called.  One  was  lined  two  dollars, 
the  other.one.  The  latter  told  me  last  week  that  he  would  not  have 
missed  hearing  you  for  ten  dollars;  and  if  he  had  no  other  way  to  go 
he  would  walk  fifteen  miles  to  hear  you  at  any  time. 

"Another  man,  a  farmer  and  trader,  who  has  not  been  seen  at  a 
meeting-house  for  so  long  a  time  that  I  could  not  learn  when  he  last 
heard  a  sermon,  was  one  of  your  hearers  the  last  time  you  preached. 
A  friend  told  me  that  he  was  seen  to  wipe  something  from  his  eyes 
while  you  were  speaking,  and  that  he  has  not  been  neard  to  use  an 
oath  since." 

228 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

Early  morning  found  us  at  Atlanta;  and  all 
day  long  we  pushed  on  eastward  through 
Georgia,  arriving  at  Augusta  in  the  afternoon, 
and  traveling  on  through  the  rain  and  darkness 
to  Charleston,  S.  C.,  during  the  night. 

A  hearty  welcome  and  a  hasty  meal  with 
sister  Bourn,  under  whose  charge  the  fatherless 
find  mercy  ;  a  pleasant  hour  of  prayer  for  help 
and  guidance  for  the  faithful  toilers  there  ;  a 
glance  at  the  bright-eyed  little  ones,  and  a  walk 
through  the  rain  to  the  depot,  and  we  are  away 
again ;  for  we  cannot  feel  at  liberty  to  accept 
the  invitations  to  remain  and  preach  in  the  city 
the  next  day. 

A  hundred  mites  or  more  of  travel  in  a 
pouring  rain,  and  we  arrived  at  our  destined 
place  at  evening,  being  greeted  by  brother  J. 
C.  Smith,  who,  with  a  young  friend,  was 
waiting  for  us  with  the  horse  and  carriage ;  and 
in  a  few  moments  we  were  at  rest  in  the  mission- 
house  at  the  second  station,  where  sisters  M. 
E.  Judkins,  R.  E.  Childs,  and  J.  A.  Hodsdon, 
gave  us  a  "Howdy"  and  a  supper,  both  of 
which  were  fully  appreciated. 

Sunday  morning  broke,  clear  and  cool,  and 

how  glad  we  were  that  we  had  not  remained  in 

Charleston  ;  for  brother  Smith  was  too  sick  to  go 

to  meeting,  and  the  appointment  for  preaching 

229 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

had  gone  out.  Six  miles  of  travel,  mostly 
through  dense  forests  of  lofty  pines  shooting  up 
straight  as  arrows,  four  miles  without  seeing  a 

O  *  <— ' 

house,  and  along  smooth  and  level  roads  over 
hard  and  sandy  soil,  and  we  came  upon  a  little 
opening  in  which  stood  the  log  church  where 
the  meeting  was  to  be  held. 

First  came  the  Sunday-school,  then  preach- 
ing, then  baptism  in  a  place  where  "there  was 
much  water;"  then  preaching  again,  and  the 
breakino1  of  bread  around  the  table  of  the 

o 

Lord ;  then  another  six  miles'  ride  and  a  meeting 
at  the  mission-house,  and  then  the  day  was 
done  ;  but  the  work  was  not  over,  for  brother 
Smith's  indisposition  had  by  this  time  developed 
itself  as  a  serious  case  of  the  measles,  to  which 
he  had  been  exposed  while  visiting  the  poor, 
and  we  found  that  there  was  mission  work 
enough  there  for  a  week  to  come. 

How  thankful  we  were  that  we  arrived  just 
in  time,  as  Mrs.  H.  had  large  experience  in 
that  disease  in  her  early  days ;  and  so  as  she 
with  the  others  Av7atched  the  dear  brother  day 
and  night,  she  knew  just  what  to  do  for  him. 
And  how  thankful  we  were  for  a  mission-house 
which  had  a  whole  roof  over  it,  and  one  plas- 
tered room  in  it,  where  we  could  make  com- 
fortable a  sick  man,  who  for  the  work  of  Christ 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

was  nigh  unto  death.  The  house  well  paid  for 
itself  that  week.  Of  course  the  sickness  inter- 
rupted our  labors,  meetings  could  not  be  held 
there ;  but  we  revisited  our  friends  at  the  old 
church,  and  preached  there  repeatedly  during 
the  week. 

Friday  we  took  cars  and  went  fifteen  miles 
farther  to  another  station  where  our  only  sister 
had  a  school,  in  a  house  purchased  by  sister  C. 
Holden,  and  where  we  found  our  eldest  son 
and  sister  E.  A.  Esserine,  who  also  had  a  school 
among  the  poor.  We  spent  one  night  here, 
speaking  to  a  few  who  were  hastily  assembled, 
and  on  the  morrow  we  returned  to  preach  again 
at  the  old  church  among  the  pines. 

Monday  morning  came,  and  with  it  a  new 
order  of  arrangements.  We  had  designed  to 
make  our  way  through  North  Carolina  and 
Eastern  Virginia  alone,  but  the  time  was 
advanced ;  sister  Judkins,  who  had  remained 
during  the  whole  of  last  summer,  needed  rest; 
sister  Childs,  in  consequence  of  an  injury 
received,  was  suffering  from  neuralgia ;  Mrs. 
H.  was  tired  out  with  care  for  brother  Smith, 
who  was  just  able  to  be  about  the  house  ;  and 
it  seemed  unsafe  for  sisters  Judkins  and  Childs 
to  attempt  their  journey  North  alone.  Before 
nine  o'clock  Monday  morning  we  had  said  the 
231 


Incidents  in  Southern  Work. 

sad  words  of  parting  to  our  dearest  ones,  and 
with  sisters  Childs  and  Judkins  were  on  the 
train  for  the  North. 

Away  in  New  Hampshire  sister  Abby  Wood 
was  thinking  of  her  absent  husband,  and  brother 
and  sister  Trefethen,  who  had  spent  the  win- 
ter in  Florida,  where  she  had  taught  and 
labored  last  year,  and  wishing  in  her  heart  it 
could  be  so  that  we  could  make  the  northward 
trip  in  company.  They  had  started,  but  an 
injunction  on  some  railroad  kept  them  waiting 
all  day,  and  fretting,  too,  a  little,  and  finally 
sent  them  around  by  another  route  ;  but  as  the 
northward  train  rolled  into  the  junction  depot 
where  we  had  been  waiting  three  hours  to  make 
connection,  we  sprang  into  a  car  to  secure  a 
seat,  when  who  should  we  meet  but  brother 
Wood  and  brother  and  sister  Trefethen,  well, 
strong,  happy,  and  homeward-bound.  We 
thanked  God  and  took  courage,  for  we  now  had 
companionship,  and  help  enough  to  pursue  our 
journey  with  ease,  and  handle  our  invalids 
comfortably ;  and  nothing  to  trouble  us  but 
the  memory  of  the  pale  and  tearful  face  of 
her  who  had  remained  behind  to  watch  the 
feeble,  and  care  for  the  work ; — and  so  we 
hurried  on  day  and  night,  and  night  and  day, 
through  Wilmington,  Weldon,  Richmond, 
232 


Incidents   in  Southern    Work. 

Washington,  Philadelphia,  and  New  York,  till 
on  Wednesday  noon,  April  6th,  we  landed 
sister  Childs  safely  and  comfortably  in  the 
quiet  of  her  sister's  Connecticut  cottage,  and  at 
midnight  our  train  rolled  into  Boston,  and  we 
found  our  way  to  the  Scriptural  Tract  Reposi- 
tory, and  our  journey  was  done. 

We  were  ready  to  resume  our  toils  again, 
and  sister  Judkins,  after  a  brief  repose,  turned 
her  face  to  the  old  home  among  the  mountains, 
summoned  in  haste,  and  traveling  through 
perilous  ways,  only,  alas  !  to  find  her  much- 
loved  father,  from  whom  she  had  been  parted  so 
long,  shrouded  and  coffined  for  the  grave,  and 
the  long  looked  for,  joyful  meeting  with  her 
friends  and  family  a  season  of  grief  and  tears. 

And  we,  while  we  ply  the  pen,  and  direct 
the  affairs  of  the  Repository,  cannot  forget  the 
pale  and  weary  countenance  of  her  who  sat 
alone  to  hide  her  sorrow  as  we  left  the  mission 
home,  and  who,  since  that  time,  has  been 
watching  over  sister  Hodsdon  while  she,  like 
brother  Smith,  was  prostrated  by  disease,  and 
who  now,  caring  for  the  poor  feeble  ones  that 
are  far  from  health  and  strength,  writes  of 
anxious  hours  and  weary  days  and  sleepless 
nights,  and  the  whole  burden  of  whose  message 

18, "PRAY  FOR  ME." 

2.33 


SUMMARY  OF  SOUTHERN  WORK. 

During  a  period  of  a  little  more  than  six 
years,  from  November,  1867,  to  January,  1874, 
sixty-five  missionary  journeys  were  made  from 
the  North  to  the  states  of  Virginia,  North  Car- 
olina, South  Carolina,  Georgia,  Tennessee,  Ala- 
bama, and  Florida,  in  connection  with  the  mis- 
sion work  of  the  Scriptural  Tract  Repository ; 
beside  some  others  undertaken  by  independent 
laborers  who  visited  the  fields  we  occupied,  and 
co-operated  in  our  work.  For  some  of  these 
teachers,  etc.,  in  a  few  instances,  we  obtained 
transportation  from  the  government ;  a  few  la- 
borers journeyed  mainly  at  their  own  expense  ; 
the  traveling  expenses  of  others  we  paid ;  and 
all  were  sustained,  aided,  and  cared  for  by  funds 
and  supplies  Avhich  passed  through  our  hands. 

I  myself  made  five  journeys  to  the  South. 
Four  other  members  of  our  family  made  seven 
journeys  to  Southern  states,  the  different  visits 
occupying  from  six  weeks  to  twenty  months 
each.  Twenty-eight  of  the  journeys  were  made 
by  seventeen  different  men,  and  twenty-four 
journeys  were  made  by  nineteen  different 
234 


Summary  of  Southern    Work. 

women,  who  labored  as  missionaries  and 
teachers. 

None  of  these  laborers  were  salaried  by  us. 
They,  with  hardly  tin  exception,  gave  themselves 
willingly  and  heartily  to  the  work,  not  for  filthy 
lucre,  but  of  a  ready  mind  ;  and  having  food 
and  covering,  they  were  therewith  content,  even 
though  the  food  was  sometimes  meagre,  and  the 
shelter  often  poor  and  mean. 

We  wonder  sometimes  how  so  much  could  be 
accomplished  with  such  limited  means  ;  but  the 
faithful,  unselfish  laborers  had  a  mind  to  work, 
and  the  blessing  upon  their  labors  was  not  Avith- 
held.  All  were  helpers  together,  and  all,  we 
trust,  were  blessed  in  their  deeds. 

This  work  was  not  done  without  sacrifices  and 
hardships.  Houses  were  forsaken,  families 
separated,  loved  ones  severed,  some  of  them  to 
meet  no  more  till  the  coming  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  our  gathering  together  unto  him. 
Laborers  were  distrusted  as  strangers,  and  sus- 
pected and  reproached  on  account  of  wars  and 
fightings  with  which  they  had  no  fellowship, 
and  political  contentions  in  which  they  took  no 
part.  Feeble  women  were  forced  to  find  shelter 
in  miserable,  windowless  houses,  or  in  cabins 
infested  with  vermin  and  overrun  with  rats 
and  reptiles  ;  baking  their  corn  meal  in  the  ashes, 
235 


Summary  of  Southern   Work. 

and  eating  it  without  butter  or  sauce  ;  having  for 
weeks  of  wintry  weather  only  our  old,  tattered 
Bethel  Tent  as  their  shelter  from  the  storms. 
Refined  and  intelligeut  ladies,  wearied  with  jour- 
neyings,  were  driven  from  cabins  whose  inmates 
were  forbidden  to  harbor  them  on  pain  of  being 
themselves  turned  into  the  streets,  and  forced  to 
ride  till  midnight  through  a  strange  country,  in 
a  mule-cart,  before  they  could  find  a  roof  be- 
neath which  they  could  lay  their  heads .  Laborers 
have  journeyed  for  hundreds  of  miles  on  foot 
through  forests,  sands,  and  swamps,  attacked 
by  fierce  dogs,  and  exposed  to  venomous  rep- 
tiles ;  seeking  sometimes  for  food  where  com- 
fortable sustenance  could  not  be  begged  or 
bought ;  sleeping  beneath  the  trees  when  it  was 
far  too  cool  for  comfort ;  huddling  into  lowly 
hovels  where  whole  families  were  crowded  into  a 
single  room  ;  inhaling  noxious  miasms,  or  parch- 
ing with  sultry  heats.  Helpless  women  and  quiet 
families  have  been  threatened  with  the  direst 
vengeance  if  they  did  not  abandon  their  work ; 
warnings  and  hints  of  whipping,  shooting,  and 
house-burning  have  been  made  ;  and  in  all  these 
and  various  other  ways  the  faithful  workers  were 
made  to  share  the  rough  realities  of  mission  life 
in  some  portions  of  the  South,  in  the  disturbed 
condition  of  society  which  followed  the  war. 
236 


Summary  of  Southern   Work. 

But  notwithstanding  all  these  trials  and  dau 
gers,  we  here  record,  to  the  praise  of  God,  that 
of  all  the  workers  connected  with  our  various 
mission  enterprises,  not  one  died  while  engaged 
in  southern  work ;  none  were  harmed  while 
going  to  and  fro  —  with  the  exception  of  two 
brethren  who  received  slight  and  temporary  in- 
juries from  the  wrecking  of  a  train  when  home- 
ward-bound ;  none  of  the  laborers  ever  went 
armed,  except  with  the  whole  armor  of  God ; 
none  suffered  bodily  injury  at  the  hands  of  un- 
reasonable and  wicked  men,  or  were  driven  aAvay 
or  compelled  to  abandon  their  fields  of  labor, 
with  the  exception  of  one  laborer  who  went 
South  without  our  counsel  in  the  midst  of  fierce 
election  excitements,  and  who,  possibly  lacking 
the  wisdom  of  the  serpent,  was  beaten  and 
driven  away,  the  school-house  being  burned  after 
his  departure  ;  none  died  of  diseases  contracted 
or  exposure  endured  while  in  the  southern  field, 
with  the  exception  of  one  lady  whom  we  never 
saw,  but  who  went  South  with  friends,  without 
our  personal  supervision  ; — and  though  fourteen 
years  have  elapsed  since  these  dear  children  of 
the  Lord  went  forth  to  do  their  work  of  mercy 
and  blessing,  thirty-seven  of  the  forty-one  work- 
ers, several  of  whom  were  not  in  firm  health  at 
the  beginning,  we  believe  are  still  living  and  able 
237 


Summary  of  Southern    Work. 

to  do  service  in  the  Master's  cause.  Several  are 
still  laboring  in  the  work  of  the  ministry — in 
mission  fields  and  elsewhere  ;  some  are  yet  as- 
sociated with  us  in  Repository  work  ;  those  who 
have  died  are  resting  in  peace  and  hope  ;  and  so 
far  as  we  know,  all  who  were  sent  forth  to  enter 
upon  this  work  have  adorned  the  doctrine  of 
God  our  Saviour,  and  still  trust  in  him  and  look 
for  and  love  his  appearing. 

Through  the  united  labors  of  this  noble  band 

C5 

of  workers,  sixteen  Sunday-schools  were  organ- 
ized and  sustained  for  longer  or  shorter  periods, 
with  interest  and  profit,  being  supplied  with 
libraries,  cards,  tracts,  etc.,  from  the  Reposi- 
tory. Fifteen  week-day  schools  for  elemen- 
tary and  religious  instruction  were  established 
in  six  different  regions  ;  perhaps  not  less  than 
a  thousand  pupils  received  instruction,  and  prob- 
ably about  five  hundred  persons,  old  and  young, 
were  for  the  first  time  taught  to  read  God's 
Word  for  themselves.  Houses,  school-houses, 
and  places  of  worship  were  purchased,  built,  or 
hired ;  the  gospel  was  preached  to  multitudes  in 
places  where,  through  the  troublous  times,  it  had 
been  rarely  heard  for  years  before  ;  converts 
were  multiplied — about  two  hundred,  we  judge, 
being  baptized  ;  evil  was  overcome  by  good,  love 
was  victorious  over  hate  ;  foes  were  turned  into 
238 


Summary  of  Southern    Work. 

friends,  attachments  were  formed  which  we  trust 
will  outlast  the  years  of  time,  and  good  was 
done  which  can  only  be  known  in  eternity. 

During  the  progress  of  the  work,  reports  were 
from  time  to  time  made  through  the  columns  of 
THE  CHRISTIAN  ;  but  as  true  and  full  reports  of 
the  actual  condition  of  things,  if  published  and 
sent  back  to  where  they  were  written,  would 
have  seriously  embarrassed,  if  not  utterly  ruined, 
the  work,  we  carefully  suppressed  such  details, 
greatly  to  the  disgust  of  some  of  the  stay-at- 
home  people,  and  to  the  equal  satisfaction  of 
the  laborers  and  intelligent  supporters  of  the 
work,  who  well  knew  that  in  withholding  intel- 
ligence from  enemies  we  were  obliged  to  with- 
hold it  from  friends  also. 

In  addition  to  the  work  already  mentioned, 
we  were  able  to  aid  numbers  of  teachers,  labor- 
ers, and  preachers  residing  in  the  Southern 
states,  and  some  of  our  pupils,  also,  became 
teachers,  and  thus  other  schools  were  estab- 
lished which  are  not  referred  to  in  this  account. 

The  requisite  funds  and  supplies  for  the  pros- 
ecution of  this  work  were  provided  by  the  Lord, 
and  came  from  various  sources  known  and  un- 
known. In  one  instance  an  association  of  ladies 
entrusted  a  hundred  dollars  to  me,  which  was 

used  to  pay  the  traveling  expenses  of  some 
239 


Summary  of  Southern    Work. 

Christian  women  who  went  to  the  South.  In 
another  instance  a  missionary  society,  at  my 
request,  sent  a  hundred  dollars  to  the  South  to 
be  used  in  completing  a  place  of  worship  for  a 
feeble  church ;  but  with  these  exceptions,  no 
society  or  organization  aided  in  the  work  at  all. 

We  never  asked  a  congregation  publicly,  nor 
an  individual  privately,  to  give  us  a  penny  for 
the  work  at  the  South  or  elsewhere  ;  nor  have 
we  ever  authorized  agents  to  solicit  funds  for 
the  work,  in  our  name.  The  Avork  has  not  been 
ours  but  the  Lord's,  and  we  have  been  content 
to  let  it  stand  or  fall  according  to  his  will. 

As  our  books  and  accounts  were  burned  in 
the  Boston  Fire,  in  November,  1872,  we  have 
never  been  able  to  present  to  our  friends  a  com- 
plete statement  of  the  financial  aspects  of  our 
southern  work. 

In  the  columns  of  THE  CHRISTIAN  for  July, 
1871,  was  published  a  statement  of  matters  up 
to  that  date,  from  which  we  make  the  following 
extracts : 

RECEIPTS    AND    EXPENSES. 

For  the  satisfaction  of  kind   friends  whose 
generous  aid  has  been  extended  to  the  impov- 
erished and  distressed  at  the  South,  we  give  a 
brief  summary  of  mission  work  from  its  com- 
240 


Summary   of  Southern     Work. 

mencement  to  the  present  hour.  Though  \ve 
have  found  neither  time  nor  space  for  detailed 
reports,  we  have  endeavored  to  have  all  our 
mission  accounts  so  faithfully  and  accurate^ 
kept,  that  we  could  at  any  time  acquaint  those 
interested,  with  the  exact  state  of  aflairs,  or 
refer  any  who  were  entitled  to  inquire,  to  the 
records  for  complete  and  satisfactory  informa- 
tion. 

After  a  careful  examination  of  the  books, 
with  the  aid  of  an  experienced  accountant,  our 
book-keeper  furnishes  the  following  statement 
of 

CASH  RECEIPTS  AND  EXPENSES. 

"The  whole  amount  received  at  the  Repository  for 
mission  purposes  from  Oct.  1,  1867,  to  July  1,  1871,  is 
seven  thousand  eight  hundred  and  nine  dollars,  and  ninety- 
two  cents  ($7,809.92).  Some  small  sums  handed  to  Mrs. 
Hastings,  when  absent  from  home,  have  not  been  recorded 
on  the  Repository  books,  but  thirty-seven  hundred  and 
seven  dollars,  and  twenty-one  cents  ($3,707.21)  of  this 
amount  which  is  recorded  has  been  given  expressly  to 
aid  her  in  her  work ;  and  a  considerable  portion  of  it  was 
given  for  her  personal  use, — all  of  which  has  been  devoted 
to  defraying  the  expenses  of  the  mission. 

The  expenses  have  been  as  follows : 
For  freight,  expressage,  cartage,  storage,  post- 
age, labor,  shipping,  etc.,  in  Boston,       .         .  $774.37 
For  supplies,  school-books,  utensils,  provisions, 

etc.,  purchased  in  Boston,        ....     910.82 
For  books,  Bibles,  Testaments,  papers,  tracts, 
hymns,  etc.,  from  the  Repository,  at  wholesale 

prices, 1,226.64 

Paid  to  Mrs.  Hastings,  to  be  expended  by  her 
for  fares,  freights  at  the  South,  building,  rents, 
241 


Summary   of  Southern    Work. 

boarding  of  teachers,  support  of  schools,  help- 
ers, and  relief  of  the  poor,  etc.,          .         .       2,358.84 

Paid  to  forty  different  laborers  in  the  South,  aside 
from  the  amounts  paid  to  and  for  them  by  Mrs. 
Hastings, 2,817.81 

Paid  to  twenty-five  other  laborers,  preachers,  city 
missionaries,  and  families  of  missionaries,  most 
of  whom  were  laboring  in  other  regions,  (not 
at  the  South,) 307.52 

Total, $8,396.00 

From  this  deduct  the  total  receipts,   .         .       7,809.92 

and  it  leaves  a  balance  of  expenses  above  receipts,  $586. 08 

The  figures  given  above  partially  represent 
the  pecuniary  aspect  of  the  work,  but  give  no 
idea  of  the  amount  of  unpaid  labor  that  has 
been  performed  in  carrying  it  forward.  No 
figures  which  we  can  give  will  adequately  rep- 
resent the  amount  of  work  performed  in  this 
connection. 

Three  members  of  our  own  family  have  been 
engaged  at  the  South,  but  neither  they  nor  any 
of  the  other  laborers  have  received  salaries,  but 
have  had  food  and  raiment,  and  have  been  taught 
therewith  to  be  content.  The  labor  has  been 
done  by  willing  hands,  under  a  sense  of  need 
and  duty,  and  to  save  the  perishing  souls  and 
bodies  of  men. 

SUPPLIES     DISTRIBUTED. 

According  to    our   memorandum,    we   have 
received,  since  May,   1868,  one  hundred  and 
242 


Szimmary   of  Southern     Work. 

ninety -five  barrels,  and  sixty -six  cases  or  pack- 
ages; besides  many  other  smaller  parcels  of 
which  no  record  has  been  kept.  No  account 
has  been  preserved  of  numerous  barrels  and 
parcels  previously  received.  These  have  been 
sent  to  the  Repository,  or  shipped  to  our  order, 
by  the  readers  of  THE  CHRISTIAN,  and  other 
friends  of  Jesus  and  his  work. 

The  books  of  the  mission  show  that  to  July 
1,  1871,  there  have  been  sent  South  two  hun- 
dred and  seventy-Jive  barrels  of  clothing,  pro- 
visions, and  sundries,  eight  cases  of  books,  also 
stoves,  necessary  tools,  and  various  household 
utensils ;  besides  numerous  trunks  filled  with 
supplies,  which  have  been  carried  by  the  laborers 
when  they  entered  upon  their  work — the  whole 
probably  amounting  to  about  three  hundred 
barrels,  besides  some  barrels  privately  sent  by 
friends  of  the  laborers,  from  different  points, 
directly  to  the  southern  field. 

It  is  impossible  to  estimate  the  value  of  these 
supplies.  Some  barrels  were  full  of  excellent 
clothing,  others  were  less  valuable.  It  is  prob- 
able that  each  barrel,  on  an  average,  has  done 
the  receivers  more  good  than  twenty  dollars  in 
money  would  have  done.  And  if  so,  not  far 
from  six  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  supplies  have 
been  sent  and  distributed  through  the  South. 
243 


Summary   of  Southern  Work. 

No  one  inexperienced  in  mission  work,  can 
imagine  the  amount  of  labor  requisite  to  distrib- 
ute judiciously  such  a  quantity  of  supplies.  Of 
course  it  is  easy  to  give  away  things,  and  the 
strong,  the  vicious,  the  intemperate,  and  the 
crafty,  wearing  their  rags  and  leaving  their 
better  clothes  at  home,  pleading  poverty, — and 
heaven  knows  they  were  all  poor  enough, — such 
persons,  if  unrestrained,  would  make  short 
work  with  a  cargo  of  clothing,  and  leave  the 
sick,  the  lonely,  the  aged,  the  widows,  and 
orphans,  destitute  of  their  rightful  portion. 

It  has  required  keen  eyes,  and  a  watchful, 
prayerful  spirit,  to  avoid  being  imposed  upon  ; 
and  also  a  good  deal  of  courage  to  deny  assist- 
ance to  scores  of  clamorous  beggars ;  and  then 
the  only  way  to  proceed  understandingly  has 
frequently  been  to  harness  the  horse  and  drive 
for  miles  and  miles  through  the  lonely  pine 
woods,  and  hunt  up  the  cabins  of  the  poor,  hear 
the  pitiful  tales  of  need  and  want,  see  for  our- 
selves the  poverty  of  the  people,  and  minister 
to  their  necessities. 

Almost  entire  communities  have  thus  been 
relieved, — people  who  were  always  poor,  but 
who  by  war,  conscription,  and  pillage,  have 
been  reduced  to  the  lowest  depths  of  want  and 
misery.  Only  the  Lord  can  tell  how  many 
244 


Summary   of  Southern     Work. 

persons  have  been  kept  from  starvation  and 
from  crime  by  the  assistance  rendered  by  the 
kind  friends  whose  offerings  have  been  so  gen- 
erously contributed. 

"We  were  informed  that  at  a  public  meeting, 
one  wealthy  planter  stated  that  the  mission 
established  in  his  neighborhood  had  been  worth 
five  thousand  dollars  to  the  county,  in  pre vent- 
ing crime  and  relieving  distress. 

O  O  . 

REPOSITORY   OUTLAY. 

Much  actual  outlay  has  been  entailed  upon 
the  Repository  by  this  work.  Aside  from  the 
consideration  that  considerable  sums  have  been 
donated  to  this  mission  work  which  might  other- 
wise have  been  contributed  to  aid  in  the  sfen- 

G 

eral  Repository  work,  the  space  and  labor  in 
THE  CHRISTIAN  devoted  to  southern  work  has 
been  worth  at  least  a  thousand  dollars,  and  no 
competent  person  could  have  been  hired  to  per- 
form the  labor,  writing,  etc.,  that  has  been  done 
by  the  editor  of  THE  CHRISTIAN,  for  less  than 
a  thousand  dollars  more.  In  addition  to  which 
the  editor  made  a  six-weeks'  mission-tour  last 
year,  visiting,  preaching,  and  laboring  in  Vir- 
ginia, Tennessee,  Georgia,  and  South  Carolina, 
the  entire  expense  of  which  he  paid  from  his 
own  pocket,  that  he  might  avoid  giving  occasion 
245 


Summary   of  Southern    Work. 

to  those  who  seek  occasion,  and  preach  the 
gospel  freely  *'in  the  regions  beyond." 

The  gathering  together  of  the  offerings  of 
kind  friends  has  been  a  labor  of  love  for  many 
willing  hands,  whom  we  trust  God  has  blessed 
in  their  deed.  But  while  many  friends  have 
aided  in  this  work,  yet  a  very  large  amount  of 
labor  has  fallen  on  the  conductors  of  the  Tract 
Repository.  These  hundreds  of  barrels,  being 
received  one  or  two  at  a  time,  coming  by  dif- 
ferent lines,  and  sometimes  requiring  to  be 
hunted  up  among  the  half  a  dozen  freight  sta- 
tions in  different  parts  of  the  city,  have  caused 
care  and  labor.  Freights  must  be  paid,  carting 
done,  barrels  tugged  up  three  or  four  flights  of 
stairs  into  the  Repository ;  store-room  must  be 
provided  and  rent  paid  for  the  same  ;  letters 
must  be  written,  acknowledging  the  receipt  of 
packages  ;  barrels  must  often  be  opened,  re- 
packed, headed  up,  directed,  tugged  down 
stairs,  and  reshipped  by  cars  or  steamer  ;  lines 
of  conveyance  must  be  ascertained ;  journeys 
made  to  New  York  and  Philadelphia  to  consult 
agents  and  find  the  cheapest  routes ;  letters 
written  to  railroad  and  steam-boat  agents,  bills 
of  lading  forwarded,  lost  goods  hunted  up, 
errors  corrected  ;  letters  written  to  laborers  to 
inform  them  what  was  coming ;  supplies  pur- 
246 


Summary  of  Southern    Work. 

chased  in  the  best  market,  and  packed  and 
shipped  with  other  goods  ;  letters,  whole  vol- 
umes of  them,  sent  almost  every  day  to  different 
missions,  giving  directions,  counsel,  and  encour- 
agement;  monies  provided,  drafts  forwarded, 
donations  received,  recorded,  and  acknowl- 
edged ;  complaints  attended  to,  errors  corrected, 
lies  and  slanders  prayed  over ;  mission  reports 
prepared  ; — all  these  and  countless  other  mat- 
ters have  been  the  work  of  the  laborers  in  the 
Tract  Repository,  and  have  formed  no  light 
addition  to  cares  which  were  already  too  bur- 
densome to  be  easily  borne. 

All  the  labor  performed  by  the  editor  has 
been  done  from  the  first — nearty  four  years — 
without  money  and  without  price  ;  and  for  a 
considerable  time  no  charge  was  made  for  any- 
thing done  at  the  Repository  on  mission  ac- 
count. But  as  it  became  impossible  for  one 
person  to  attend  to  all  the  details  of  the  work 
and  perform  all  the  physical  and  mental  labor 
required,  it  became  necessary  to  increase  the 
working  force  of  the  Repository,  and  it  was 
thought  improper  to  burden  and  embarrass  the 
publication  department  with  the  entire  cost  of 
so  much  labor  devoted  to  other  objects.  It  was 
therefore  deemed  proper  to  allow  a  small  amount 
to  partially  cover  the  expenses  of  handling, 
247 


Summary  of  Southern    Work. 

storing,  purchasing,  packing,  and  shipping 
supplies,  as  well  as  the  cost  of  clerk-hire  and 
postage,  the  board  of  missionaries  stopping  at 
the  Repository  on  their  way  to  and  from  their 
fields  of  labor,  and  other  similar  matters  on 
account  of  which  extra  help  must  be  employed 
in  the  Repository.  This  labor  and  expense  has 
probably  cost  on  an  average,  a  dollar  per  day, 
but  only  half  that  amount  has  been  allowed, 
making  a  total  of  $576  for  the  whole  period  of 
three  years  and  three  quarters  of  southern  mis- 
sion work.  And  not  one  cent  of  this  allowance 
has  been  retained  for  the  Repository,  as  the 
books  show  the  expenses  to  be  $586.08  more 
than  the  total  receipts,  and  the  present  needs  of 
laborers  South  will  still  increase  this  deficiency. 
Besides  this,  hundreds  and  thousands  of 
tracts,  papers,  etc.,  have  been  sent  freely 
through  the  South,  from  the  Repository,  which 
have  not  been  charged  to  the  mission  fund. 
In  addition  to  this,  a  portion  of  the  traveling 
expenses  of  the  laborers  were  for  a  time  borne 
by  the  government,  and  some  of  the  laborers 
have  largely  defrayed  their  own  traveling 
charges.  To  have  hired  all  this  work  and  paid 
nil  these  expenses,  would  have  required  an 
amount  of  means  such  as  has  not  been  entrusted 
to  our  hands. 

248 


Summary  of  Southern    Work. 

The  objects  aimed  at  have  been  so  various 
that  none  but  the  great  Master  can  tell  how 
much  has  been  accomplished.  In  some  cases 
everything  needed  to  be  done.  We  have  tried 
to  do  what  we  could. 

We  lay  this  account  before  our  readers, 
thanking  God  for  all  his  blessings,  and  implor- 
ing his  pardon  for  our  faults.  We  know  we 
have  erred  and  failed  in  many  things — may 
God  forgive  them  all. 

We  have  sought  to  do  what  he  required. 
When  wre  have  been  without  a  dollar  of  mission 
money  in  the  Repository,  and  with  fifteen  or 
twenty  laborers  in  the  South  to  be  cared  for, 
we  have  not  withheld  whatever  seemed  needful. 
We  have  never  made  public  appeals  for  aid, 
and  have  never  asked  any  congregation  or  church 
to  subscribe  or  take  collections  for  this  work. 
We  employ  no  agents  to  beg  for  the  work.  If 
it  is  the  Lord's,  we  are  content  to  leave  it  to  his 
care  ;  if  it  is  not,  the  sooner  it  is  buried  in  obliv- 
ion the  better.  And  whenever  money  is  begged, 
or  people  are  urged  to  contribute  for  mission 
purposes,  our  readers  will  understand  that  such 
funds  are  designed  to  go  in  channels  entirely 
distinct  from  those  in  which  we  are  laboring. 
249 


^SECTARIAN  WORK. 

Our  work  is,  and  has  necessarily  been,  unde- 
nominational. Laboring  among  the  poor  and 
lowly,  not  only  at  the  South,  but  also  in  the 
cities  of  the  North,  we  have  had  little  opportu- 
nity to  pay  much  attention  to  denominational 
difficulties  or  disputes.  We  find  truths  in  all 
creeds,  and  saints  in  all  communions.  The 
truths  we  accept  with  all  gladness ;  and  for  the 
saints  we  have  the  most  cordial  fellowship  in 
Christ.  But  we  find  contradictions  which  we 
cannot  reconcile  among  the  creeds,  and  world- 
lings whom  we  cannot  fellowship  among  the 
sects.  So  we  strive  to  follow  the  Good  Shep- 
herd, who  is  given  as  "a  leader  and  commander 
to  the  people ;"  accepting  as  our  sole  and  suffi- 
cient rule  in  all  matters  of  faith  and  practice, 
the  holy  Scriptures,  which  are  able  to  make 
men  wise  unto  salvation ;  which  are  given  by 
inspiration  of  God,  and  are  profitable,  for  teach- 
ing, for  reproof,  for  correction,  for  instruction  in 
righteousness,  that  the  man  of  God  may  be  per- 
fect, thoroughly  furnished  unto  all  good  works. 
250 


Unsectarian    Work. 

We  make  no  war  upon  the  truths  contained 
in  creeds,  nor  upon  the  saints  connected  with 
churches  ;  but  while  we  strive  to  be  companions 
of  "all  them  that  fear  God,"  we  do  not  believe 
that  "sinners  in  Zion  "  are  any  better  than  sin- 
ners outside  of  Zion,  nor  that  error  preached 
from  the  pulpit  is  at  all  more  sacred  than  error 
proclaimed  anywhere  else. 

We  believe  in  the  truths  declared  in  what  is 
called  the  Apostle's  Creed;  and  especially  do 
we  believe  in  "the  communion  of  saints;"  not 
in  the  communion  of  sinners  and  worldlings, 
who  happen  to  be  professors  of  the  Christian 
faith;  not  in  the  communion  of  a  few  saints, 
who  are  separated,  limited,  and  confined  by 
bars  and  bonds  and  rules  and  human  laws  ;  but 
in  the  communion  of  saints,  of  all  saints,  of 
saints  simply  because  theya?-e  saiiits,  redeemed 
by  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  sanctified  by  his 
Spirit  and  through  his  truth. 

Hence,  during  our  more  than  thirty  years  of 
gospel  labor,  we  have  never  been  connected 
with  any  church  but  the  church  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ ;  and  have  been  members  of  no 
denominational  organization,  conference,  or 
ecclesiastical  society  whatever.  Wherever  the 
door  is  opened  to  us  as  Christians,  we  enter  in. 
Whenever  we  are  required  to  be  something 
251 


Unsectarian    Work. 

more  or  better  than  Christians,  we  stay  outside, 
and  turn  to  the  Gentiles,  who  are  usually  glad 
to  hear  of  Christ  and  his  salvation.  We  wage 
no  war  with  "The  churches,"  for  most  of  the 
best  people  in  the  world  are  in  the  churches ; 
and  we  heartily  believe  in  churches  founded  on 
the  Rock,  and  fashioned  after  the  New  Testa- 
ment pattern.  We  have  no  plan  for  uniting  all 
Christians,  for  we  believe  that  onl}r  the  Lord  can 
do  this  ;  but  we  have  no  interest  in  quarrels  and 
contentions,  in  isms  and  schisms  ;  and  believing 
that  charity  is  greater  than  either  faith  or  hope, 
we  desire  that  all  things  be  done  with  charity. 
We  believe  this  to  be  the  best  position  for 
us,  because  it  seems  to  be  the  most  in  accord- 
ance with  the  word  of  God  ;  hence  we  hold  our- 
selves aloof  from  sectarian  strifes,  taking  no 

O 

part  in  denominational  disputes,  but  praying 
that  Christ's  grace  may  be  with  all  that  love 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  in  sincerity,  and  sending 
forth  our  Christian  salutations  to  '  'all  that  in 
every  place  call  upon  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord,  both  theirs  and  ours."  1  Cor.  i.  2. 
Five  times,  in  his  last,  tender,  parting  prayer 
(  John  xvii),  did  our  blessed  Lord  beseech  his 
Father  that  his  disciples  "all  mat/  be  one;"  and 
shall  the  dying  request  of  our  Master,  so  persist- 
ently urged,  be  disregarded  or  lightly  esteemed  ? 
252 


Unsectarian    Work. 

We  know  the  difficulties  of  this  way,  but  is 
it  not  the  path  pointed  out  by  our  beloved 
Lord  ?  And  has  he  not  made  special  provision 
for  the  loneliness  and  isolation  of  his  faithful 
followers,  Avhen  he  has  said,  "Where  two  or 
three  are  gathered  together  in  my  name,  there 
am  I  in  the  midst  of  them"? 

The  first  worship  of  mankind  was  the  worship 
of  the  family.  Of  Abraham,  who  builded  an 
altar  wherever  he  pitched  his  tent,  the  Lord 
said,  "I  know  him,  that  he  will  command  his 
children  and  his  household  after  him,  and  they 
shall  keep  the  way  of  the  Lord ;"  and  Joshua, 
the  leader  of  Israel,  however  powerless  he 
might  be  to  control  the  whole  nation,  could 
say,  "As  for  me  and  my  house,  we  will  serve 
the  Lord."  Genesis  xviii.  19.  Joshua  xxiv.  15. 

The  godly  family  is  the  oldest  government,  the 
oldest  school,  and  the  oldest  church  on  earth. 
Often,  it  has  been  almost  the  only  light  in  the 
darkness,  the  only  refuge  for  the  true  faith 
amid  the  floods  of  iniquity  that  prevailed.  If 
the  family  is  corrupted  and  decayed,  both  church 
and  state  must  totter  and  fall  into  ruin ;  but  if 
the  life  of  God,  which  is  the  light  of  men,  glows 
in  the  hearts  and  homes  of  Christians,  then  all 
is  not  lost. 

Hence  the  church  in  the  house  (Romans  xvi. 
253 


Unsectarian     Work. 

5.  Philemon  2)  is  the  ultimate  resort  of  the 
isolated  and  lonely  disciples  of  the  Master  ;  and 
it  was  the  gospel  of  Christ,  proclaimed  "publicly 
and  from  house  to  house,"  and  the  churches 
planted  in  the  private  houses,  and  in  the  upper 
rooms  in  the  homes  of  godly  families,  which 
made  the  martyr  ages  so  radiant  with  the  light 
and  life  of  God  ;  which  honeycombed  the  mas- 
sive foundations  of  Roman  heathenism,  and 
tumbled  its  idolatries  at  last  into  utter  and 
irrecoverable  ruin.  This  was  done  by  the  church 
in  the  house,  before  the  era  arrived  which  was 
marked  by  grand  cathedrals,  magnificent  tem- 
ples, worldly  pomp,  and  general  apostasy  and 
corruption. 

Hence,  while  we  rejoice  in  the  united  fellow- 
ship of  saints  which  we  are  permitted  to  enjoy, 
we  prize  even  more  highly,  the  church  that  is 
in  our  house,  where,  whatever  the  confusion 
and  strife  without,  we  can  have  fellowship  with 
God  and  with  his  children;  and  where,  from 
time  to  time,  God  permits  us  to  see  saints  com- 
forted, sinners  convinced  of  sin,  and  believers 
added  to  the  Lord. 

In  looking  over  the  world,  I  can    see   that 

many  changes  have  occurred  during  the  fifty 

years  that  I  have  been  permitted   to  live.     I 

have  passed   through   many  trials,   and  many 

J54 


Unsectarian    Work. 

bitter  experiences  ;  have  buried  loved  ones  out 
of  sight,  have  watched  by  the  beds  of  the  sick 
and  the  dying ;  have  sympathized  with  the 
despised  in  their  poverty-stricken  homes,  and 
listened  to  tales  of  heart-rending  troubles  too 
numerous  to  repeat ;  and  have  often  knelt  to 
pour  out  my  desires  in  agonizing  prayer  to 
God,  in  behalf  of  suffering  humanity.  All  these 
things  have  been  sad  to  experience,  but  they 
have  been  of  short  duration,  and  are  not  with- 
out their  purifying  influence  upon  our  hearts 
and  lives.  We  find  some  promise  adapted  to 
each  condition  of  life.  (2  Cor.  iv.  17  ;  v.  1-7  ; 
viii.  9.)  None  of  these  things  are  able  to  move 
the  soul  that  is  established  in  the  gospel  of 
Christ.  Trials  will  not  rob  us  of  eternal  life  ; 
and  while  many  things  have  been  hard  to  bear, 
we  know  our  heavenly  Father  is  gently  leading 
us  all  the  while,  so  long  as  we  stretch  out  the 
hand  toward  him. 

But  of  all  the  sad  experiences  of  my  religious 
life,  nothing  has  ever  pierced  my  soul  like  the 
fall  and  backsliding  of  the  people  of  God.  I 
have  seen  them  rise  like  an  army  with  banners, 
all  glorious  and  victorious,  their  faces  shining 
almost  as  Moses'  did,  with  the  glory  of  God. 
Their  backslidings  and  departures  from  God 
have  so  overwhelmed  me  at  times,  that  with 
255 


Unsectarian     Work. 

this  and  other  things,  my  spirits  have  been  so 
burdened  that  my  health  sometimes  has  been 
seriously  affected. 

The  old  paths  seem  lost  sight  of  by  many, 
and  the  glory  of  God  has  departed  from  them  ; 
and  like  Saul,  king  of  Israel,  they  have  fallen 
far  from  the  high  position  which  it  is  their  priv- 
ilege to  occupy.  The  world  and  its  pride  and 
fashion  seem  to  reign  supreme  among  the  mass. 
Little  by  little  Christians  have  yielded,  until 
their  conscience  will  permit  them  to  do  many 
things  that  once  they  could  not  do. 

We  are  in  a  position  where  Satan  can  tempt, 
and  we  are  in  danger  of  living  in  opposition  to 
the  word  of  God.  The  tendency  of  the  age  is 
to  run  after  the  things  of  this  world,  and  to 
make  our  religion  too  much  of  an  external  bus- 
iness, while  we  neglect  the  inner  man,  or  spirit- 
ual cultivation.  Without  this,  all  our  zeal  and 
show  for  God's  truth  rests  upon  a  sandy  foun- 
dation. We  want  men  and  women  of  God  who 
fear  him  and  are  afraid  to  try  to  deceive  him. 
The  most  urgent  and  active  outward  zeal  can 
only  be  sustained  by  the  inward  workings  of 
the  Holy  Ghost.  Oh,  to  know  his  will  and  do 
it,  and  so  be  able  to  overcome  the  world  !  May 
God  bless  those  who  serve  and  trust  him,  East, 
West,  North,  and  South,  is  my  prayer. 

256 


SCRIPTURAL  TRACT  REPOSITORY. 


Shortly  before  our  marriage,  in  1853,  my 
husband  had  commenced  the  publication  of 
religious  tracts  and  books.  When  we  were 
married  I  had  a  musical  instrument,  a  melo- 
deon,  which  had  been  a  source  of  pleasure  to 
me  in  many  lonely  hours.  Often,  when  ill 
health  prevented  me  from  singing  as  in  other 
days,  I  had  played  the  old  familiar  tunes  on 
this,  and  rejoiced  in  the  Lord  for  the  consola- 
tion. As  we  were  not  overburdened  with 
worldly  wealth  or  goods,  and  as  money  was 
needed  to  pay  for  tracts  and  books,  I  sold  my 
instrument, — a  much  greater  sacrifice  to  me 
than  it  would  be  now,  when  such  things  are 
more  plenty, — and  took  the  money  and  put  it 
into  the  publishing  work,  and  so  became  a 
partner  in  the  business  ! 

My  husband  continued  to  preach,  write,  and 
publish  tracts,  while  I  did  housework,  taught 
school,  economized,  and  saved  money  to  help 
pay  the  bills. 

257 


Scriptural  Tract  Repository. 

In  the  summer  of  1855,  when  "\ve  were  living 
in  Rhode  Island,  my  husband  returned  from 
New  York,  where  he  had  been  attending  to  his 
publishing  business,  and  was  surprised — not 
altogether  pleasantly — to  find  the  house  swarm- 
ing with  perhaps  twenty  or  thirty  children,  and 
a  flourishing  private  school  in  full  operation.  I 
used  to  take  my  baby,  then  some  six  months 
old,  into  the  school-room,  and  give  him  to  one 
of  the  children  who  had  learned  the  best  lesson, 
and  who  would  then  sit  down  on  the  floor  and 
amuse  the  child,  while  the  rest  would  study 
hard,  hoping  that  their  turn  would  come  by  and 
by  to  play  with  the  baby  ;  that  being  a  special 
reward  for  diligence  in  study. 

My  school  life  had  some  amusing  incidents. 
The  house  where  we  lived  was  on  the  borders 
of  a  pond  ;  and  a  narrow  foot-bridge,  without  a 
railing,  led  across  the  flume.  As  I  feared  that 
the  children  might  fall  into  the  water,  I  strictly 
forbade  their  crossing  this  bridge,  ordering 
them  to  go  to  and  fro  by  the  carriage  road. 

I  had  among  my  scholars  one  bright,  ener- 
getic boy,  Jimmy  R, ,the  son  of  a  manufac- 
turer— full  of  life,  energy,  and  mischief.  One 
day,  during  the  recess,  I  heard  Jimmy  say  to 
the  rest  of  the  children, 

"Come,    come,    let's   go   over    the   bridge ! 
268 


"  COME,  LET'S  GO  OVER  THE  BRIDGE!" 


Page  tob. 


Scriptural  Tract  Repository. 

Never  mind  what  she  says  ;  I  will  see  you  don't 
fall  into  the  water.      Let's  have  a  good  time  !" 

Away  they  went,  over  the  bridge,  so  far,  that 
when  the  school-bell  rang  they  did  not  hear  it, 
and  I  was  obliged  to  send  some  one  after  them 
to  call  them  back.  They  came,  looking  guilty 
and  ashamed.  I  talked  to  them  on  this  wise  : 

"Now,  children,  I  told  you  all,  before  I 
dismissed  you,  not  to  go  over  that  bridge. 
How  wicked  it  was  for  you  to  disobey  me. 
Suppose  some  of  these  little  children  had  fallen 
off  and  been  drowned  ;  how  sad  it  would  have 
been  !  But  God  has  preserved  you.  I  was 
very  sorry  to  hear  Jimmy  ask  you  to  go  over 
the  bridge — " 

"I  didn't  do  it !"  said  Jimmy,  impulsively. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  did,"  I  said;  "God  saw  you, 
and  he  knows  that  you  have  told  a  lie.  It  was 
very  wicked  for  you  to  ask  them  to  go  over 
the  bridge,  and  it  was  very  wicked  for  the  other 
children  to  go  when  asked ;  and  it  is  more 
wicked  for  Jimmy  to  tell  a  lie  about  it.  And 
now  wre  must  get  down  and  pray,  and  I  must 
tell  the  Lord  all  about  it." 

Jimmy  started  up,  and  frantically  cried  out, 
"Oh,  don't,  Mis' Hastings,  don't  tell  God  of 
it !  Oh,  don't,  don't  tell  God  of  it !  I  won't 
do  so  again  !  Don't  tell  God  of  it !" 

259 


Scriptural  Tract  Repository. 

I  maintained  my  composure  with  an  effort, 
and  told  them  I  must  tell  the  Lord  all  about  it, 
or  I  was  afraid  Jimmy  would  be  lost ;  and  so 
they  all  knelt  down,  and  while  I  prayed  in 
simple  language,  Jimmy  and  all  the  rest  sobbed 
and  cried  as  if  their  little  hearts  would  break. 

I  had  no  more  difficulty  about  their  going 
across  the  foot-bridge,  and  Jimmy  made  me  no 
more  trouble,  but  was  the  best  boy  we  had  in 
school ;  and  was  so  quiet  and  obedient  at  home, 
that  some  of  his  friends  were  afraid  he  was  going 
to  die  young,  like  the  boys  we  read  of,  and 
came  over  and  talked  with  me  about  it.  I  told 
them  the  story,  and  relieved  their  anxiety. 
After  this,  I  had  a  children's  prayer-meeting 
every  Wednesday  afternoon,  and  precious  sea- 
sons they  were,  and  I  trust  profitable. 

Some  twenty  years  afterward,  while  riding 
through  Rhode  Island,  on  the  railway,  a  fine- 
looking  young  man  accosted  me  : 

"Is  this  Mrs.  Hastings?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Do  you  know  me?" 

"No,  sir." 

"I  think  I  can  tell  you  a  story  that  will  make 

you  remember  me.      Do  you  remember  a  boy 

in  your  school  who  once  disobeyed  you,  and 

went  over  the  bridge,  and  told  a  lie  about  it, 

2GO 


Scriptural  Tract  Repository. 

and  you  prayed  for  him,  and  scared  him  almost 
to  death  ?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

"Well,  Mrs.  Hastings,  I  am  that  boy;  and 
it  was  there  that  I  date  my  first  convictions  of 
sin.  I  never  forgot  it,  and  never  shall.  I  am 
trying  to  be  a  Christian,  and  I  date  my  first 
religious  impressions  from  that  hour  of  prayer. 
You  may  have  this  to  encourage  you,  that  your 
efforts  were  not  in  vain  in  my  case." 

The  money  received  from  the  school  helped 
to  support  our  family  and  pay  the  book  bills  ; 
but  as  the  school  caused  some  confusion  in  the 
house,  and  hindered  us  from  other  work,  it 
only  continued  three  terms.  We  worked  on, 
however,  for  several  years,  my  husband  writing 
and  publishing,  while  I  did  wrhat  I  could  to 
share  the  burdens,  until  the  work  became  heavy 
on  his  hands,  and  he  sought  to  devise  some 
method  by  which  it  might  be  continued  and 
extended,  while  he  was  relieved  from  the  details 
of  the  labor,  and  permitted  to  devote  his  time 
more  fully  to  writing  and  preaching.  Various 
experiments  in  this  direction  were  tried  with 
little  success,  and  after  weary  delays  and  dis- 
appointments, in  the  summer  of  1865,  he  reached 
the  conclusion  that  the  best  way  to  get  a  thing 
done  is  to  do  it  yourself,  and  so  the  SCRIPTURAL 
261 


Scriptural   Tract  Repository. 

TRACT  REPOSITORY  was  established,  with  a  view 
to  the  publication  of  an  attractive,  earnest, 
scriptural,  Christian  literature,  in  the  form  of 
religious  tracts,  books,  and  periodicals,  adapted 
to  meet  the  demands  of  the  times,  and  secure 
approval  of  those  who  love  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  in  sincerity,  and  are  "looking  for  that 
blessed  hope." 

Entirely  separated  from  denominational  con- 
trol and  sectarian  influences,  without  funds, 
endowments,  or  pledges  of  support,  the  enter- 
prise was  originated  in  simple  reliance  upon 
the  promises  and  providence  of  God,  and  in 
the  hope  that,  by  its  instrumentality,  sinners 
might  be  saved,  believers  builded  up,  and  God 
glorified  through  the  faithful  dissemination  of 
the  words  of  everlasting  life.  The  special 
necessities  of  preachers  of  the  gospel,  Bible 
students, young  disciples,  experienced  believers, 
aged  persons,  little  children,  unconverted  peo- 
ple, inquiring  souls,  freedmen,  seamen,  skeptics, 
inmates  of  hospitals,  almshouses,  prisons,  and 
reformatories,  were  prayerfully  considered  in 
connection  with  the  work,  and  a  large  amount 
of  reading  matter  sent  forth,  adapted  in  charac- 
ter, form,  and  type,  to  the  requirements  of  these 
various  classes. 

In  January,  1866,  was  issued  the  first  number 
262 


Scriptural    Tract   Repository. 

of  THE  CHRISTIAN,*  a  monthly  religious  paper, 
which  was  the  defender  of  no  sect,  and  the 
organ  of  no  party  ;  which  had  no  room  in  its 
columns  for  the  tables  of  the  money-changers, 
or  the  advertisements  of  those  that  sold  oxen 
and  doves  and  merchandise  and  patent  medi- 
cines;  which  excluded  politics,  sectarianism, 
strifes,  and  controversies  ;  but  which  contained 
records  of  special  providences  and  answers  to 
prayer;  with  instructions,  warnings,  exhorta- 
tions, and  words  of  grace  and  truth  adapted  to 
win  lost  men  to  God. 

The  establishment  of  this  paper  wras  to  me 
the  occasion  of  much  sacrifice.  We  had  then 
removed  to  Lawrence,  Mass.,  and  when  my 
husband  commenced  this  work,  we  both  knew 
that  it  meant  absence  from  home,  and  constant 
struggle  and  labor  for  him,  and  increasing  bur- 
dens of  various  kinds  for  me.  Nevertheless 
the  path  seemed  open  in  this  direction,  and  we 
have  reason  to  believe  that  the  Lord  smiled 
upon  and  prospered  tbe^ork.  THE  CHRISTIAN 
has  had  a  wide  circulation,  its  yearly  issue  some- 
times averaging  nearly  forty  thousand  copies  per 
month ;  and  we  trust  it  has  been  a  means  of 
saving  sinners  and  edifying  saints.  In  January, 
1871,  THE  LITTLE  CHRISTIAN,  a  children's 

*  Other  papers,  in  London  and  elsewhere,  have  since  adopted  the 
game  name. 

2G3 


Scriptural  Tract  Repository. 

paper,  was  issued,  which  has  also  had  a  wide 
circulation. 

Though  in  1872  the  Boston  fire  consumed  our 
entire  publishing  establishment,  and  thus  greatly 
circumscribed  the  work,  yet  up  to  January, 
1881,  we  estimated  that  our  total  issues  of  relig- 
ious books  and  tracts  from  the  beginning,  had 
amounted  to  not  less  than  four  hundred  and 
ninety-six  thousand  pounds,  or  about  two  hun- 
dred and  forty-eight  tons  of  undenominational 
religious  literature,  not  including  many  tons  of 
Bibles,  tracts,  and  religious  books,  which  have 
been  purchased  and  sold,  or  distributed  freely 
from  the  Repository. 

This  work  still  continues,  and  we  trust  haa 
proved  a  blessing  to  many.  Many  circum- 
stances might  be  narrated  illustrating  the  guid- 
ance and  gracious  providences  of  God,  in  sus- 
taining and  directing  this  work,  but  they  would 
make  too  long  a  story,  and  so  we  must  pass 
them  by. 

Ml 


"TRIED  WITH  FIRE. 


In  the  summer  and  autumn  of  1872,  after 
returning  from  our  labors  in  the  southern  field, 
we  lived  in  rooms  in  the  premises  occupied  by 
the  Scriptural  Tract  Repository,  comprising  the 
third  and  fourth  floors  of  No.  19  Lindall  St., 
now  Exchange  Place ;  each  story  affording  a 
space  of  nearly  four  thousand  square  feet  of 
flooring.  Upon  the  lower  of  these  floors  was 
the  Scriptural  Tract  Repository,  the  office  of 
THE  CHRISTIAN,  the  Editor's  and  compositors' 
rooms,  book  bindery,  etc.,  while  the  floors 
above  were  occupied  by  printing  presses,  and 
used  for  storage  of  papers,  tracts,  books,  and 
material.  The  rooms  we  occupied  were  upon 
the  lower  floor. 

One  day  my  husband  came  into  my  room  and 
said,  "Oh,  Hattie,  I  am  tired,  I  want  to  lie 
down  ;"and  flinging  himself  on  the  bed,  dropped 
asleep.  He  looked  very  pale,  and  while  he 
slept,  his  hands  jerked  and  twitched  with 
nervous  restlessness.  After  sleeping  ten  min- 
utes he  arose  and  hurried  away  to  his  work.  I 

265 


"Tried  with  Fire? 

tried  to  have  him  stay  longer,  but  he  could  not 
spare  the  time.  Our  oldest  son  who  was  in  the 
room,  said  nothing  while  his  father  was  there, 
but  after  he  had  gone  he  dropped  on  his  knees 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  broke  out  in 
prayer  and  tears,  and  said, 

"O  Lord,  send  a  fire  and  burn  this  estab- 
lishment up,  if  my  father  can't  get  released  any 
other  way !" 

About  the  last  week  in  October,  1872,  while 
I  was  preparing  some  manuscript  for  the  press, 
without  a  moment's  thought  or  warning,  I 
seemed  to  see  the  flooring  of  the  entire  Repos- 
itory give  way,  and  books,  tracts,  and  papers 
tumble  down  in  confusion ;  while  the  massive 
presses  and  heavy  machinery  above  fell  with  a 
crash  into  the  cellar,  five  stories  below.  I  had 
no  reason  for  thinking  or  imagining  anything  of 
the  kind  ;  the  impression  came  suddenly,  without 
expectation  or  apparent  cause,  and  it  instantly 
brought  to  my  mind  the  terrible  calamity  of  the 
falling  of  the  Pemberton  mill  several  years 
before,  at  Lawrence,  Massachusetts. 

I  spoke  to  my  husband  about  the  matter,  and 
asked  him  if  he  would  not  look  up  and  see  if 
the  walls  did  not  tremble  when  the  large  print- 
ing-machine above  started  up.  He  laughed  at 
the  idea.  The  block  was  an  old-fashioned, 
266 


'•''Tried  with  Fire" 

strongly  built,  granite  structure,  with  massive 
brick  partition  walls  ;  the  joists  supporting  the 
floors  were  unusually  heavy,  and  were  placed 
very  close  together,  making  the  floor  almost  a 
mass  of  solid  timber;  the  whole  was  strongly 
supported,  and  fitted  to  hold  up  an  immense 
load  ;  and  the  idea  of  the  presses  and  fixtures 
of  the  Scriptural  Tract  Repository  breaking 
down  through  such  a  mass  of  timber,  was  too 
absurd  to  be  imagined.  He  said  it  was  impos- 
sible that  there  should  be  any  danger  of  that 
kind. 

"Well,  it  may  be  so,"  I  replied;  "I  cannot 
help  it  if  it  is,  but  I  believe  these  floors  are 
going  down,  and  all  our  books,  papers,  and 
machinery  will  be  destroyed  ;  and  if  this  build- 
ing does  not  fall,  there  will  be  a  fire,  or  some- 
thing else  as  bad,  for,  while  I  was  thinking  of 
other  things,  these  thoughts  came  up  before  me 
like  a  vision,  and  I  believe  it  is  true." 

"Do  you  suppose,"  said  my  husband,  "that 
the  Lord  has  given  us  all  this  Repository  to  be 
burned?" 

"Well,  I  cannot  help  it, "I replied,  "I  believe 
that  the  Repository  is  going  down.  Your  health 
is  failing,  and  it  may  be  that  the  Repository  is 
going  to  be  burned  up  to  prevent  your  over- 
working." 

267 


'•''Tried  with 

"Well,"  he  replied,  "if  the  Lord  wants  the 
Repository  to  be  burned,  we  shall  have  to  let 
him  burn  it." 

A  few  days  after  I  went  to  New  Haven  to 
engage  in  gospel  labor ;  and  on  Saturday  night, 
November  9,  1872,  as  we  were  returning  home 
from  meeting,  we  saw,  away  in  the  north-east, 
a  lurid  redness  in  the  sky.  Said  I,  "What  can 
that  be?  It  must  be  a  fire."  But  little  did  I 
imagine  what  it  was.  I  retired  to  rest,  but 
passed  a  sleepless  night ;  I  knew  not  why,  but 
thought  perhaps  it  was  the  burden  of  the  meet- 
ing which  was  resting  on  me,  and  concerning 
which  I  had  much  solicitude. 

The  next  morning  I  went  to  the  chapel.  I 
had  purposed  to  speak  on  Prayer,  for  the 
encouragement  of  the  faith  of  the  Lord's  chil- 
dren. The  time  for  service  arrived,  and  I 
looked  two  or  three  times  over  the  chapter  where 
I  had  selected  my  text,  but  my  eyes  seemed 
holden  that  I  could  not  see  it.  Previous  to  this, 
a  gentleman  who  had  attended  the  meetings  and 
become  interested,  had  desired  me  to  write  out 
what  I  had  to  say,  and  read  it ;  on  account  of 
some  of  his  aristocratic  friends  who  came  :  think- 
ing that  it  might  please  them  better,  as  they 
had  always  been  accustomed  to  listen  to  written 
discourses.  It  was  quite  a  trial  to  me,  but 

268 


'"''Tried  with  Fire? 

to  please  him  I  had  written  out  some  notes 
of  matters  which  I  wished  to  say,  but  I  had 
accidentally  laid  my  notes  under  my  Bible,  and 
could  not  find  them,  and  was  in  quite  a  dilemma. 
The  house  was  packed  with  hearers,  and  there 
I  was,  and  knew  not  what  to  do.  I  first  thought, 
"I  will  take  some  old  subject  with  which  I  am 
familiar;"  then  I  thought,  "This  is  not  the  best 
way  ;"  and  finally  concluded  to  let  the  Lord 
guide  me,  and  to  frankly  tell  them  the  truth 
about  the  matter.  This  I  did,  and  offered  a 
brief  prayer,  asking  the  Lord  to  direct  in  giving 
the  people,  that  day,  truth  which  was  adapted  to 
their  needs. 

I  then  opened  my  Bible,  thinking  to  take  the 
first  text  which  met  my  eyes.  It  was  this  : 
"Thou  shalt  be  visited  of  the  Lord  of  hosts 
with  thunder  and  with  earthquake  and  great 
noise  ;  with  storm  and  tempest,  and  the  flame 
of  devouring  fire."  Isa.  xxix.  6.  Having  never 
spoken  from  this  text,  I  felt  at  first  a  little 
embarrassed ;  but  afterward  the  embarrassment 
left  me,  and  it  seemed  that  I  was  on  the  right 
track.  The  people  had  previously  learned  the 
meaning  of  the  light  we  had  seen  on  the  sky, 
the  night  before,  but  I  knew  nothing  of  it. 
They  had  kept  it  from  me,  thinking  it  might 
disquiet  me  ;  so,  knowing  nothing  of  the  matter, 
269 


"Tried  with  Fire? 

I  went  on,  quoting  text  after  text  which  bore 
upon  the  subject,  and  mentioned  that  one  year 
before,  I  was  in  Alabama  when  the  news  of  the 
great  Chicago  fire  reached  me,  and  I  then  said 
that  I  would  not  wonder  if  within  another  year, 
some  of  our  eastern  cities  shared  the  same  fate. 
"But,"  said  I,  "as  they  have  not,  we  will  thank 
God,  and  take  courage." 

I  shall  never  forget  the  strange  look  which 
everybody  gave  me.  I  supposed  that  they 
were  astonished  at  the  account  I  had  given 
them.  I  went  on  with  my  subject,  and  when  I 
had  closed,  a  man  came  and  brought  a  news- 
paper to  a  minister  who  was  present,  and  asked 
him  to  read  it,  saying  at  the  same  time, 

"This  is  all  unexpected  to  Mrs.  Hastings, 
but  we  suppose  that  the  great  fire  she  antici- 
pated has  come,  and  that  Boston  and  Mr. 
Hastings' Repository  are  burned." 

They  commenced  reading  :  "A  fire  broke  out 
at  seven  o'clock  at  the  corner  of  Kingston  St. — " 
then  every  hour  telegrams  had  been  received  ; 
and  fire  companies  from  Hartford  with  their 
engines  had  gone  up  ;  etc.,  etc.,  though  all  this 
time  I  had  known  nothing  about  it.  The  hourly 
telegrams  were  published  in  this  paper,  and  it 
took  the  man  about  half  an  hour  to  read  them  ; 
and  this  was  the  first  intelligence  I  had  received 
270 


"Tried  with  Fire? 

concerning  the  matter.  Some  said  I  was  very 
calm,  others  thought  I  looked  pale ;  but  my 
impressions  had  doubtless  somewhat  prepared 
me  for  the  news. 

Sunday  passed,  and  Monday  was  very  rainy  ; 
and  I  yielded  to  the  urgency  of  the  people  and 
remained  to  attend  another  meeting  in  the  even- 
ing. Tuesday  morning  I  started  for  Boston 
with  my  little  girl,  arriving  at  the  station  of  the 
Boston  and  Albany  railway  in  the  afternoon. 
I  requested  the  hackman  to  take  me  to  19 
Lindall  St.  Said  he,  "You  will  never  go  to  19 
Lindall  St.  again.  There  is  no  such  street 
now." 

I  found  the  whole  city  in  confusion,  and 
the  streets  blockaded  and  guarded  by  troops. 
Some  seventy  acres  of  territory,  nine  tenths  of 
which  was  occupied  by  the  finest  places  of  trade 
in  the  city,  had  been  swept  by  fire.  The  sec- 
tion which  contained  the  business  edifices 
which  were  the  pride  of  Boston,  was  a  mass  of 
ruins ;  and  the  city  assessors  estimated  that 
property  to  the  amount  of  between  sixty  and  a 
hundred  millions  of  dollars  had  been  destroyed. 
The  fire  began  on  Kingston  St.,  swept  across 
Chauncy  St.,  and  had  passed  from  the  corner 
of  Summer  and  Hawley  to  the  corner  of  Frank- 
lin and  Washington  streets,  sweeping  every 
271 


'•''Tried  with   Fire? 

thing  clean.  From  Washington  it  spread  on  to 
Milk  street,  passing  to  the  south  of  the  new  Post 
Office,  and  continuing  its  march  across  Water 
St.,  it  burned  along  Congress  St.,  Kilby  St., 
Lindall  St.,  and  Central  St.,  and  then  following 
Oliver  St.  to  Broad,  and  from  there  sweeping 
over  the  whole  territory  between  Summer  and 
Oliver  streets,  including  Arch,  Otis,  Devon- 
shire, Federal,  Congress,  Pearl,  and  Broad 
streets,  it  burned  clear  to  the  water's  edge. 

The  hack-driver  was  obliged  to  take  me 
through  Beacon  street  in  order  to  get  across  the 
city.  I  requested  him  to  carry  me  to  the  Bos- 
ton and  Maine  station,  for  I  hardly  knew  where 
else  to  go  ;  so  he  carried  me  there.  I  was  fear- 
ful that  I  might  be  obliged  to  go  out  of  town  to 
find  friends,  for  the  hotels  were  full,  acquain- 
tances were  scattered,  and  where  my  little  fam- 
ily were  I  knew  not.  After  waiting  for  a  Avhile, 
a  Charlestown  horse-car  came  along,  and  think- 
ing it  might  be  my  last  chance,  I  decided  to  go 
to  Charlestown.  We  could  not  get  into  the 
car,  but  were  held  on  by  those  who  stood  upon 
the  steps,  and  soon  came  to  the  hospitable  home 
of  brother  Stone.  Here  I  found  my  eldest  son. 
I  inquired  of  him  where  his  brother  was  ;  he 
did  not  know,  as  he  had  not  seen  him  since 
Sunday  morning;  "But,"' said  he,  "the  last  I 
272 


"Tried  with  Fire? 

saw  of  Horatius,  he  had  started  for  Watertown 
on  foot,"  a  distance  of  about  eight  miles. 

"Where  is  your  aunt  Mary?"  I  inquired.  "I 
don't  know,  Mother,  I  have  not  seen  her  since 
Sunday  night." 

"And  you  don't  know  where  your  father  is?" 
"No!" 

Of  course  I  slept  but  little  that  night,  and 
the  next  morning  I  started  out  to  see  what  I 
could  find.  The  first  thing  I  looked  for  was  a 
newspaper,  for  I  knew  that  my  husband  would 
give  notice  if  he  were  in  the  city,  so  that  friends 
might  know  where  to  find  him.  I  found  that 
he  had  taken  an  office  temporarily,  on  the 
premises  occupied  by  his  book-binder,  at  num- 
ber 30  Hanover  St.  I  went  there  and  found 
that  he  had  slept  the  night  before  on  a  packing 
box,  with  his  overcoat  for  a  covering.  We  did 
not  cry,  we  laughed  to  think  that  we  had  found 
each  other. 

Leaving  Boston,  I  went  to  Watertown  ;  and, 
as  I  entered  the  house  of  my  good  brother 
Tripp,  my  ten-year-old  boy,  Horatius,  on  hear- 
ing me,  ran  into  the  kitchen  and  stood  there 
with  his  back  toward  me,  to  hide  his  grief. 

"Horatius,"  said  I;  "won't  you  come  and  see 
your  mother?"    There  was  no  answer.    "Aren't 
you   coming  to   see   your    mother?"      Still   no 
273 


"Tried  with  Fire? 

answer,  but  he  turned  half  around.  I  went 
and  put  my  arms  around  his  neck,  and  finally 
he  said : 

"I  am  afraid  the  policemen  will  take  my 
father  up,  and  put  him  into  the  jail  because  he 
is  in  debt." 

I  put  my  arms  around  him  again,  and  said, 
"Oh,  no,  they  won't  put  your  father  in  prison." 

"Well,  pa's  press-machine  is  burned  up,  and 
how  is  he  going  to  pay  his  debts  ?" 

I  took  my  handkerchief  to  wipe  the  tears  from 
the  poor  boy's  face,  and  said,  "I  guess  the  Lord 
will  help  him  pay  his  debts." 

"Ma,"  said  he,  "won't  you  get  a  room,  and 
let  us  all  be  together  ?" 

"Well,  if  I  get  a  room,  where  are  the  beds 
and  the  clothes  ?  and  where  are  we  to  get  our 
food?  I  am  going  to  Chicago,  and  perhaps 
South.  Now  you  stay  here  with  auntie  Tripp, 
and  be  a  good  boy,  and  perhaps  when  I  come 
back  we  shall  have  something,  so  that  we  can 
get  things  together  and  have  a  home  once  more." 

"Can't  you  take  me  with  you,  Mother?" 

I  told  him  that  we  had  no  money,  to  pay  his 
expenses,  and  he  at  last  quieted  down,  and 
remained  where  he  was.  I  stopped  only  a  few 
moments,  and  soon  after  started  for  New  York 
and  the  West. 

274 


DELIVERANCES  FROM  DEATH. 

At  different  times  during  my  life,  I  have 
experienced  some  remarkable  deliverances. 
When  I  was  a  little  girl,  about  seven  years  old, 
in  undertaking  to  wade  across  the  Onion  river, 
which  ran  near  my  home,  to  follow  my  brothers, 
Avho  had  gone  across  and  left  me  behind,  I  was 
swept  away  by  the  current,  and  borne  down 
stream  quite  a  distance.  I  was  terribly  fright- 
ened, and  cried  to  the  Lord  for  help  in  my 
extremity  ;  and  at  length  the  current  swept  me 
around  under  some  overhanging  bushes,  which 
I  grasped,  and  by  their  aid  drew  myself  to  land, 
a  drenched  and  frightened  child,  thankful  to 

O  ' 

escape  drowning  in  the  river,  but  fearful  that  I 
should  not  escape  a  whipping,  when  my  mother 
saw  the  condition  of  my  dripping  clothes.  I 
prayed  to  the  Lord,  however,  not  to  let  my 
mother  punish  me  ;  and  though  she  gave  me  a 
sharp  reprimand  for  my  fault,  yet  I  escaped  the 
whipping  which  I  feared  and  perhaps  deserved. 
I  have  suffered  from  many  attacks  of  illness, 
and  five  or  six  times,  physicians  have  given  me 
275 


Deliverances  from  Death. 

up  to  die  ;  but  I  have  been  delivered  from  death, 
and  have  outlived  several  of  the  doctors. 

Once,  when  young,  I  was  ill  with  a  fever  in 

a  boarding-house  in  C ,  and  was  supposed 

to  be  very  near  death.  I  could  not  speak, 
and  was  very  low  ;  and  all  were  expecting  that 
I  would  soon  die.  Just  at  this  time,  a  very 

dear  friend,  Harriet  C ,  who  had  not  been 

allowed  to  visit  me  during  my  illness,  made  her 
way  to  my  sick-room,  and  falling  down  upon 
her  knees  by  my  bedside,  began  to  pray  might- 
ily that  the  Lord  would  have  mercy,  and  raise 
me  up  to  health,  as  she  could  not  bear  to  have 
me  die  thus.  Her  prayer  of  faith  seemed  to 
arouse  me  from  the  stupor  of  death,  and  though 
I  had  not  spoken  for  some  time,  I  soon  began 
to  say,  with  all  the  confidence  that  I  could  com- 
mand, "I  shall  not  die  !  I  shall  not  die  !"  And 
from  that  hour  I  began  to  amend,  and  soon 
regained  my  Avonted  health. 

At  another  time,  during  the  summer  of  1880, 
after  we  removed  our  family  from  Boston  to 
Chelsea,  I  was  dangerously  ill,  and  for  many 
days  could  take  little  nourishment,  and  could 
retain  no  food  in  my  stomach.  I  was  in  a  most 
wretched  condition,  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  must 
starve  to  death  in  the  midst  of  plenty.  One 
day,  I  called  my  husband  to  my  bedside,  and 
276 


Deliverances  from  Death. 

told  .him  that  I  thought  I  must  die.  I  had 
looked  the  whole  matter  over,  and  could  see  no 
possible  chance  for  me  to  recover,  and  it  seemed 
that  my  earthly  work  was  done.  He  was  sorely 
grieved  and  perplexed,  and  knew  not  what  to 
say  or  do.  Everything  which  he  could  think 
or  hear  of  that  promised  benefit,  we  had  tried 
in  vain.  He  left  my  bedside,  and  passing  into 
the  next  room,  knelt  down  beside  the  sofa,  and 
plead  before  the  Lord  this  promise  :  "If  any  of 
you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God,  that  giv- 
eth  to  all  men  liberally,  and  upbraideth  not ; 
and  it  shall  be  given  him."  James  i.  5.  He 
told  the  Lord  that  he  lacked  wisdom,  that  he 
knew  not  what  to  do,  and  prayed  God  to  grant 
him  the  wisdom  that  he  needed,  according  to 
his  promise. 

While  on  his  knees,  there  came  to  his  mind  the 
recollection  of  a  circumstance  which  occurred 
thirty  or  forty  years  before.  When  he  was  a 
lad,  at  his  father's  house,  he  was  once  taken 
with  a  severe  attack  of  vomiting,  and  for  some 
time  could  retain  no  food  upon  the  stomach, 
even  a  tea-spoonful  of  cold  water  being  instantly 
rejected.  At  this  time  a  lady  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, well  known  as  "Aunt  Fanny,"  came  to 
nurse  him  in  his  sickness.  One  of  the  first 
things  which  she  did,  was  to  take  some  fine, 
277 


Deliverances  front  Death. 

wheat  flour,  and  scorch  it  until  it  was  brown. 
This  she  made  into  gruel,  and  gave  it  to  him  in 
small  quantities,  which  were  retained  on  the 
stomach.  She  also  took  a  cold  hen's  egg  and 
laid  it  into  the  hollow  at  the  base  of  his  throat, 
as  he  lay  on  his  back,  and  by  these  simple  rem- 
edies, he  was  soon  restored  to  health.  He 
perhaps  had  not  thought  of  the  scorched  flour  in 
years,  and  had  no  recollection  of  ever  using  it 
since  that  time.  But  this  circumstance  coming 
to  his  mind  immediately  in  connection  with  his 
prayer  for  wisdom,  led  him  to  prepare  some  of 
the  flour,  scorching  it  in  a  clean,  iron  dish,  free 
from  all  grease  and  odor,  and  make  me  some 
gruel,  which  I  was  able  to  take  in  small  quan- 
tities, without  vomiting  and  distress.  Day 
after  day,  they  fed  me  on  that  scorched  flour, 
and  I  gained  strength,  and  was  soon  able  to 
eat  other  food ;  and  ere  long  could  leave  my 
bed,  and  attend  to  my  duties  as  before. 

This  circumstance  may  seem  trivial  to  many, 
but  I  had  every  reason  to  believe  that  it  was  a 
matter  of  life  or  death  with  me. 

Other  instances  I  might  relate  where  prayer 
has  availed  in  my  own  case,  and  saved  the  sick  ; 
but  I  will  refer  to  one  or  two  deliverances  from 
dangers  of  another  kind. 
278 


Deliverances  from  Death. 

THE    FALLING   BRIDGE. 

One  time,  some  years  ago,  while  traveling 
through  one  of  the  Western  states,  on  arriving 
at  a  railway  station,  the  name  of  which  I  have 
forgotten,  we  were  told  that  the  train  could  go 
no  further,  as  a  railway  bridge  was  gone,  and 
we  should  be  obliged  to  cross  the  other  bridge 

~  O 

in  a  coach.  The  river  was  quite  wide,  and  there 
were  several  coaches  provided,  one  of  which 
we  entered. 

After  riding  some  distance,  as  we  approached 
the  bridge,  we  saw  some  of  the  passengers,  who 
had  preceded  us  in  another  coach,  and  who 
were  now  on  the  other  shore,  waving  their 
handkerchiefs  and  making  signs  to  us.  We 
supposed  they  were  exulting  over  the  fact  that 
they  had  been  able  to  cross  the  bridge  before 
our  coach  arrived. 

At  this  point  I  was  suddenly  taken  quite  ill, 
being  in  much  distress,  and  feeling  hardly  able 
to  sit  in  the  coach.  As  I  looked  down  by  the 
side  of  the  coach  I  saw  a  pile  of  small  pebbles 
of  various  colors,  some  being  pure  white,  which 
attracted  my  attention.  The  lady  sitting  beside 
me  had  noticed  that  I  was  unwell,  and  inquired 
if  I  would  not  like  to  have  her  speak  to  the 
driver,  to  allow  me  to  get  out  and  rest  a  little. 
279 


Deliverances  from  Death. 

I  said  I  would  like  to  have  her  do  so,  and  at 
the  same  time  pointed  her  to  the  beautiful  peb- 
bles. She  was  as  much  attracted  by  them  as 
myself,  and  inquired  of  the  driver,  how  long 
we  had  to  wait  on  the  other  side  of  the  river. 
He  said,  "About  an  hour  and  a  half."  She  then 
asked  him  if  we  could  not  get  out  of  the  carriage 
and  get  some  of  those  beautiful  pebbles.  He 
consented,  and  all  the  passengers  got  out  and 
gathered  pebbles  by  the  road-side. 

By  this  time  I  felt  well  again,  and  we  got  back 
into  the  coach  and  started  to  cross  the  bridge. 
The  passengers  on  the  other  side  were  still 
waving  their  hands  and  signalling  to  us,  but 

o  o  o 

the  rushing  of  the  waters  of  the  swollen  river 
caused  such  a  tumult  that  we  could  hear  noth- 
ing; but  as  we  drove  clown  upon  the  bridge, 
the  passengers  on  the  other  side  all  stood  up, 
and  waved  their  handkerchiefs  frantically  at  us. 

The  driver,  seeing  that  there  was  some 
trouble,  began  to  back  his  horses ;  and  just  as 
we  got  off  the  bridge,  it  began  to  settle,  and 
went  crashing  down. 

If  I  had  not  been  so  suddenly  taken  ill,  and 
noticed  the  pebbles  and  stopped  to  gather  them, 
we  should  probably  have  reached  the  middle  of 
the  bridge  and  ijone  down  with  it.  As  it  was. 

O  O 

we  escaped,  and  going  up  the  stream  a  little, 

280 


Deliverances  from  Death. 

we  alighted  from  the  coach,  and  crossed  on  the 
ferry-boat,  and  pursued  our  journey.  On  such 
little  things  does  our  safety  in  this  world 
sometimes  depend. 

A    FEARFUL    RIDE. 

In  the  winter  of  1858,  when  we  lived  in 
Rochester,  New  York,  my  husband  suffered 
from  an  attack  of  pneumonia.  During  the 
period  of  his  convalescence,  he  employed  him- 
self in  preparing  for  the  press  a  little  volume 
entitled,  "The  Great  Controversy  Between  God 
and  Man,  its  Origin,  Progress,  and  End,"  which 
having  finished,  he  proceeded  to  New  York, 
and  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  printers,  he  him- 
self remaining  in  the  city  to  superintend  its 
publication.  While  there,  an  open  door  was 
set  before  him,  and  he  preached  the  gospel  in 
various  churches  in  the  city  and  vicinity,  espe- 
cially in  South  Second  street  church,  Brooklyn, 
where  many  heard  the  word  with  gladness,  and 
professed  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

His  stay  being  somewhat  protracted,  and  the 
work  increasing  on  his  hands,  he  decided  to 
send  for  me  to  come  and  assist  him  :  and  on  the 
morning  of  February  16th,  I  received  a  tele- 
gram from  him,  saying,  "Come  on  to  New 
York,  if  possible  to-night,  by  Harlem  road." 
281 


Deliverances  from  Death. 

Fearing  that  he  might  have  been  taken  sud- 
denly ill,  I  speedily  arranged  my  household 
affairs,  and  took  the  evening  train  for  Albany, 
en  route  for  New  York ;  expecting  to  travel 
through  the  night,  and  a  part  of  the  next  day. 

Soon  after  taking  a  seat  in  the  railway  car- 
riage, I  felt  a  strange  restlessness  come  over 

O      '  " 

me.  I  had  often  traveled  alone  without  anxi- 
ety, and  was  courageous  and  independent ;  but 
I  could  not  account  for  the  terrible  apprehension 
of  approaching  calamity  which  hung  like  a 
shadow  over  my  mind.  I  was  impressed  that 
we  were  in  danger  of  being  smashed  to  pieces 
by  some  collision,  or  other  accident ;  a  thought 
which  seemed  to  me  exceedingly  absurd.  At- 
tributing it  to  my  weariness,  and  saying  to 
myself,  "I  will  not  be  so  foolish,  I  will  over- 
come it;  it  is  all  nervousness,  and  there  is  no 
sense  in  it ;  trouble  will  come  fast  enough  with- 
out my  borrowing  it,"  I  endeavored  to  get  a 
little  rest ;  but  sleep  had  departed  from  my 
eyes.  All  night  long,  as  the  train  thundered 
over  its  iron  track  for  more  than  two  hundred 
miles,  this  fear  of  an  impending  catastrophe  lay 
like  a  burden  on  my  mind.  All  efforts  to  feel 
unconcerned  were  in  vain,  and  I  was  constrained 
to  pray  fervently  that  the  Lord  would  spare  my 
life  to  reach  my  husband  in  safety. 
282 


Deliverances  from  Dcat/i. 

At  sunrise  we  arrived  in  Albany,  and  I  gladly 
left  the  train,  thankful  that  I  was  safe,  and 
pleased  to  think  that  all  my  gloomy  fears  and 
fancies  were  but  the  offspring  of  disordered 
nerves  and  the  result  of  physical  exhaustion. 
But  when  we  crossed  the  Hudson  river,  and 
took  the  train  for  New  York,  to  my  astonish- 
ment, my  apprehensions  returned  again  with 
redoubled  force,  and  I  felt  as  though  some  hor- 
rible disaster  was  suddenly  to  befall  us,  and 
that  very  soon.  It  seemed  to  me  as  though 
our  train  was  destined  to  be  dashed  to  frag- 
ments, and  though  I  tried  to  persuade  myself 
that  this  was  a  mere  idle  Avhim  of  mine,  never- 
theless, no  skill  of  reasoning  or  force  of  will 
could  banish  the  strange  and  ominous  impres- 
sion from  my  mind. 

I  occupied  a  seat  near  the  forward  end  of  the 
carriage,  over  the  wheels,  and  after  riding  some 
two  hours  in  anxiety  and  perturbation,  I  seemed 
to  hear  a  voice  saying  to  me,  "Put  your  feet 
up  on  the  seat!"  I  said  to  myself,  "What  an 
idea  !  Here  is  a  car  full  of  people,  and  I  should 
look  strangely  enough  sitting  with  my  feet 
drawn  up  under  me."  Again  the  voice  seemed 
to  say  to  me,  "Put  your  feet  up  on  the  seat!" 
It  startled  me  with  its  distinctness,  and  I  invol- 
untarily looked  around  to  see  if  any  one  had 
283 


Deliverances  from  Death. 

spoken  to  me  ;  but  I  could  not  detect  the  source 
of  the  voice,  and  thinking  how  foolish  I  was  to 
yield  to  such  notions,  I  said,  "I  will  not  be  so 
nervous  ;"  and  planted  my  feet  firmly  upon  the 
floor  of  the  car. 

My  apprehensions  of  coming  danger,  how- 
ever, only  increased,  and  I  could  only  continue 
in  earnest  prayer  that  God  would  protect  me 
and  bring  me  safely  to  my  journey's  end. 

A  few  moments  passed  thus,  when  there  was 
a  sudden  loud,  jarring  noise,  a  hissing  roar  as 
of  escaping  steam,  the  train  stopped  with  a  jerk 
and  crash,  the  passengers  were  thrown  forward 
in  confusion,  and  rushed  toward  the  door,  while 
I,  forgetting  that  I  had  ever  known  a  fear,  sat 
calmly  in  my  seat,  half  amused  at  the  tumult 
around  me. 

At  that  moment  the  conductor  opened  the 
door  of  the  carriage,  and  said,  "Be  calm!  be 
calm!  There  is  no  one  hurt."  Then  coming 
along  and  glancing  at  the  floor  in  front  of  me, 
as  if  in  search  of  something,  he  looked  at  me 
as  if  in  astonishment,  and  said, 

"Madam,  are  you  not  frightened?" 

"Oh,  no,"  said  I,  forgetting  to  mention  that 
I  had  experienced  my  part  of  the  fright  before. 

"Well,  you  are  one  among  a  thousand,"  said 
he,  and  pointed  in  front  of  my  seat,  where  a 
284 


Deliverances  from  Death. 

portion  of  the  flooring  several  inches  square 
was  stove  and  splintered  up,  and  the  pieces  of 
a  broken  wheel  were  plainly  visible,  protruding 
up  through  the  wreck  just  where  my  feet  had 
been.  I  then,  for  the  first  time,  noticed  with 
surprise,  that  my  feet  were  drawn  up  under 
me,  upon  the  seat.  How  or  when  they  came 
there,  I  never  knew. 

"Are  you  hurt?"  inquired  the  conductor. 

I  replied,  "I  am  not." 

Said  he,  "If  your  feet  had  been  down  there, 
you  might  have  been  hurt  badly  ;"  and  turning 
to  a  gentleman  who  stood  near,  remarked,  "If 
we  land  not  discovered  at  that  moment  that  the 
boiler  was  nearly  dry,  and  that  we  were  in  dan- 
ger of  an  explosion,  we  should  not  have  stopped, 
and  the  train  'would  have  been  smashed  up  ;  for 
we  should  not  have  known  about  this  broken 
wheel.  As  it  is,  we  stopped  the  train  just  in 
time  to  save  the  passengers." 

It  has  always  seemed  to  me  that  I  must  have 
had  the  watch-care  of  God's  angels  through  this 
fearful  ride.  I  had  previously  noticed  an  unu- 
sual commotion  beneath  my  feet,  but  had  attrib- 
uted it  to  the  unevenness  of  the  track.  But  it 
appeared  that  the  wheel  was  broken,  and  if  it 
had  made  a  dozen  more  revolutions,  I  should 
probably  have  been  a  torn  and  mangled  corpse, 

285 


Deliverances  from  Death. 

the  train  would  have  been  wrecked,  and  this 
story  would  never  have  been  told. 

After  a  delay  of  two  or  three  hours,  another 
engine  was  procured  to  replace  the  disabled 
one,  and  we  proceeded  to  New  York,  where  I 
found  my  husband  waiting  for  me  at  the  station, 
and  we  thanked  God  for  my  preservation. 

Years  have  passed  since  then,  and  I  have 
traveled  in  safety  many  thousands  of  miles, 
through  the  mercy  of  God,  who  has  given  his 
angels  charge  over  his  people  to  keep  them  in 
all  their  ways  ;  and  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt 
the  constant  care  of  Him  whose  mighty  hand 
delivered  me  "from  so  great  a  death,"  when  I 
took  that  fearful  ride. 

286 


DREAMS  A!STD  IMPRESSIONS. 

"The  prophet  that  hath  a  dream,  let  him  tell 
a  dream;  and  he  that  hath  my  word,  let  him 
speak  my  word  faithfully."  Jer.  xxiii.  28.  I 
have  not  the  greatest  confidence  in  dreams,  for 
oftentimes  dreams  come  through  the  multitude 
of  business,  as  a  fool's  voice  is  known  by  the 
multitude  of  his  words.  But  there  are  times 
when  dreams  may  instruct  us,  either  by  the 
clearer  human  insight  of  a  mind  in  perfect  bal- 
ance and  repose,  or  through  that  diviner  wisdom 
which  cometh  down  from  above.  Thus  the 
future  greatness  of  Joseph,  the  son  of  Jacob, 
was  foreshadowed ;  and  of  him  his  envious 
brethren  said,  "Behold,  this  dreamer  cometh  !" 
The  revelation  of  God  to  Nebuchadnezzar  con- 
cerning the  great  empires  of  the  earth  was  in  a 
dream ;  and  when  no  one  else  could  disclose  it, 
the  secret  was  revealed  to  Daniel  in  the  same 
manner.  Gideon  was  instructed  through  a 
dream ;  and  the  Lord  appeared  to  Solomon  in 
Gibeon  in  a  dream.  To  Joseph,  the  husband 
of  Mary,  the  angel  of  the  Lord  appeared  in  a 
287 


Dreams  and  Impressions. 

dream;  and  in  other  instances,  God  has  thus 
revealed  his  will  to  men,  not  only  in  the  last 
days,  when  it  is  written  that,  "Your  young 
men  shall  see  visions,  and  your  old  men  shall 
dream  dreams"  (Acts  ii.  17.),  but  even  in  the 
far  off  ages  of  the  patriarchs  it  was  said  :  "God 
speaketh  once,  yea  twice,  yet  man  perceiveth 
it  not.  In  a  dream,  in  a  vision  of  the  night, 
when  deep  sleep  falleth  upon  men,  in  slumber- 
ings  upon  the  bed,  then  he  openeth  the  ears  of 
men,  and  sealeth  their  instruction."  Job  xxxiii. 
14-16. 

We  need  not  enter  into  the  philosophy  of 
dreams.    Our  waking  reveries  and  fancies  might 

O  O 

become  as  vivid  as  are  our  dreams,  did  not  our 
senses  contradict  the  operations  of  our  minds, 
We  may  imagine  ourselves  kings  and  princes 
but  the  stern  realities  of  life  dispel  the  illusion  ; 
but  in  a  dream,  all  the  outer  senses  are  closed, 
and  fancies  wear  the  aspect  of  realities. 

Sometimes  intimations  of  duty  or  danger 
come  through  the  mental  impressions  vividly 
felt  in  waking  hours  ;  at  other  times  similar 
instruction  is  conveyed  to  persons  when  asleep. 
I  will  refer  to  only  a  few  instances  of  this  kind. 

MURDER   IN    THE   AIR. 

At  one  time,  when  we  were  living  in  Roches- 

288 


Dreams  and  Impressions. 

ter,  New  York,  we  resided  in  a  little  cottage 
on  the  east  side  of  Union  St.,  near  the  eorner 
of  Munroe  St.  My  husband  was  confined  to 
his  room  for  several  days,  with  an  attack  of 
pneumonia,  as  a  result  of  preaching  out  of  doors 
one  cold  day.  One  night,  a  little  past  mid- 
night, he  awoke  and  began  to  groan,  and  said, 

"Hattie,  are  you  awake?" 

"Yes, "said  I,  "why?" 

He  said,  "I  cannot  sleep;  there  is  something 
the  matter." 

"What  is  the  matter?"  I  inquired.  I  myself 
felt  wakeful,  but  knew  not  why.  He  soon 
spoke  again,  and  said, 

"It  seems  to  me  something  is  wrong  around 
this  house.  There  is  some  mischief  going  on 
in  this  neighborhood." 

Morning  came,  and  the  matter  passed  from 
our  minds  ;  but  the  next  night  the  impression 
returned,  and  he  felt  still  worse,  and  said, 

"What  can  it  be  ?  There  is  something  wrong. 
There  is  some  devilish  mischief  going  on  in  this 
neighborhood  !" 

We  knew  no  reason  for  this  feeling.  So  far 
as  we  were  aware  the  neighbors  were  respecta- 
ble people,  and  there  was  not  the  slightest  dis- 
order or  disturbance  to  warrant  such  an  im- 
pression ;  but  still  it  clung  to  him,  and  over  and 
289 


Dreams  and  Impressions. 

over  again  he  spoke  of  it,  and  prayed  the  Lord 
to  protect  and  defend  us. 

Having  at  last  measurably  recovered  from 
his  sickness,  we  started  to  fill  an  appointment 
at  Conesus,  some  thirty  miles  away,  where  we 
spent  the  Sunday.  When  we  were  returning 
to  our  home  after  concluding  our  labors,  in 
looking  over  the  daily  paper,  he  found  an 
account  of  a  horrible  murder  that  had  been 
committed  in  Rochester  the  previous  Saturday 
night.  A  man  named  Little  had  been  killed 
and  thrown  down  the  precipitous  bank  into  the 
Genesee  river.  The  water  being  shallow,  the 
corpse  remained  where  it  fell,  and  >vas  found 
the  following  day.  His  brother-in-law,  Ira 
Stout,  and  his  sister,  the  wife  of  the  deceased, 
each  of  them  was  found  with  a  broken  arm; 
and  it  was  subsequently  ascertained  that  the 
murder  had  been  committed  by  the  brother-in- 
law  in  return  for  the  cruel  and  abusive  treat- 
ment of  his  sister  by  her  husband,  and  that  the 
brother  and  sister  together,  in  attempting  to 
throw  the  corpse  into  the  river,  had  fallen  over 
the  precipitous  bank,  and  themselves  received 
severe  injuries.  On  investigation,  it  appeared 
that  they  lived  on  Munroe  St.,  just  around  the 
corner  from  our  house;  their  back  yard  coming 
within  perhaps  ten  feet  of  our  house,  and  the 
290 


Dreams  and  Impressions. 

house  standing  but  a,  very  few  rods  from  where 
my  husband  lay  groaning  and  praying  under 
this  terrible,  strange  impression,  while  this 
woman  was  suffering  from  her  husband's  abuses, 
and  the  murder  was,  perhaps,  being  plotted  by 
her  brother.  It  was  found  that  the  family  had 
a  criminal  record,  the  young  man  having  pre- 
viously been  in  state's  prison,  though  he  was  a 
person  of  marked  ability,  and  was  at  this  time 
a  student  in  a  law  office.  He  was  tried,  found 
guilty,  and  suffered  the  penalty  of  his  crime ; 
while  his  poor  sister  was  imprisoned  for  years 
at  Sing  Sing,  as  an  accessory  after  the  fact. 

CALLED    FROM    DINNER. 

At  one  time,  when  we  were  living  in  Charles- 
town,  Mass. ,  a  Christian  brother,  Captain  G , 

invited  several  minister's  wives  to  have  "a  fish 
dinner"  on  board  his  vessel.  I  went  with  the 
rest,  leaving  at  home  my  youngest  boy,  then 
about  a  year  and  a  half  old,  well  and  happy. 
Soon  after  I  came  on  board  the  vessel,  such  a 
restless,  unhappy  feeling  came  over  me  that  I 
could  not  stay.  The  friends  insisted  upon  my 
remaining  until  after  dinner,  but  nothing  could 
induce  me  to  stay.  I  felt  that  I  must  go  home! 

I  started  without  waiting  for  dinner ;  but  on 
my  way,  while  passing  along  the  street,  T  met 
291 


Dreams  and  Impressions. 

a  lady  who  said  to  me  that  there  was  a  young 
girl,  her  daughter,  whom  she  wished  I  would 
go  and  see.  She  told  me  that  she  had  heard  of 
me,  and  had  heard  me  speak  the  Sunday  night 
before  ;  and  had  been  wishing  that  she  could 
come  across  me,  somehow,  and  persuade  me  to 
call  upon  her  daughter.  This  daughter  was  an 
only  child,  and  had  come  to  Boston  and  become 
acquainted  with  a  young  man,  the  son  of  wealthy 
parents,  and  was  now  living  with  him  without 
having  been  married.  The  mother  was  nearly 
insane  about  the  matter.  "We  walked  together 
to  the  house,  where  she  left  me  to  go  in  alone. 
I  rang  the  bell,  and  inquired  for  the  daughter. 
They  told  me  that  she  could  not  be  seen ;  but  I 
sent  back  word  that  a  friend  desired  to  see  her, 
who  was  acquainted  with  her  circumstances, 
and  with  reluctance  they  finally  admitted  me  to 
her  presence.  She  looked  at  me  with  surprise. 
I  spoke  to  her  and  said,  "I  sent  you  word  that 
I  was  a  friend,  and  so  I  am,  although  I  am  a 
stranger  to  you,  but  you  are  not  a  stranger  to 
me.  I  have  come  to  befriend  you,  not  to  con- 
demn you  ;  to  give  you  good  counsel  and  advice, 
and  to  stand  by  you." 

It  was  some  time  before  I  could  reach  her 
heart,  but  at  length  she  burst  into  tears.     I 
flung  my  arms  around  her,  and  after  a  little  she 
292 


Dreams  and  Impressions. 

was  quite  free  to  tell  me  her  troubles.  She 
was  a  beautiful  girl,  and  keenly  felt  her  condi- 
tion. Before  long  the  young  man  came  in,  and 
I  talked  with  them  both.  They  promised  me 
that  they  would  be  married,  and  the  next  week 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  learning  that  they  had 
fulfilled  their  promise. 

Leaving  their  house,  I  then  hastened  home, 
and  found  on  my  arrival,  that  at  the  time  when 
I  was  so  restless  on  board  the  vessel,  my  little 
boy  was  very  badly  burned,  the  whole  palm  of 
his  hand  being  burned  with  a  hot  iron,  the  flesh 
being  crisped  in  places  to  the  bone,  in  conse- 
quence of  which,  through  taking  cold,  he  nearly 
lost  his  life,  and  received  a  scar  which  has  never 
been  removed.  I  knew  no  earthly  reason  why 
I  should  have  any  uneasiness  about  the  child, 
for  everything  was  right  when  I  left  home,  and 
there  were  plenty  there  to  care  for  him ;  but, 
nevertheless,  I  found  him  as  I  have  described, 
and  knew  then  the  secret  of  the  strange  rest- 
lessness and  anxiety  which  forbade  my  remain- 
ing at  the  dinner  to  which  I  had  been  invited. 

Many  other  instances  might  be  mentioned, 
but  these  may  instruct  some  inexperienced  soul 
to  hearken  to  the  inward  call,  and  obey  the 
voice  that  so  often  speaks,  saying,  "This  is  the 
way,  walk  ye  in  it." 

293 


Dreams  and  Impressions. 

OMINOUS    DREAMS. 

There  has  been  one  remarkable  circumstance 
in  my  own  experience,  and  that  is,  during  many 
years  past  I  have  often  boon  warned  of  the 
presence  or  approach  of  enemies,  by  dreams  of 
snakes!  Again  and  again  this  has  occurred; 
and  such  dreams  have  so  invariably  been  fol- 
lowed by  troubles,  persecutions,  slanders,  or 
assaults  of  unreasonable  and  wicked  men,  that 
my  hushand  would  groan  and  say  :  "Oh,  dear  ! 
don't  dream  any  more  of  your  snake  dreams!" 
for  he  always  knew  what  was  coming. 

It  would  be  of  no  particular  use  to  cite  many 
instances  of  this  kind,  but  I  will  relate  one  or 
two  dreams  which  were  somewhat  impressive 
to  me. 

Sometime  about  the  year  1878,  when  we 
occupied  rooms  in  the  Tract  Repository,  at  342 
Washington  St.,  Boston,  I  one  night  dreamed 
that  I  was  looking  out  of  the  window  westward, 
and  the  sky  was  shrouded  in  blackness.  I 
looked,  and  to  my  astonishment,  the  whole 
heavens  seemed  covered  with  imps  of  darkness, 
some  of  whom  were  very  large,  each  of  the 
larger  ones  being  surrounded  by  a  host  of 
smaller  ones,  which  seemed  really  to  fulfill  the 
hymn  of  Wesley,  where,  speaking  of  the  powers 

of  darkness  he  wrote  : 

294 


Dreams  and  Impressions. 

"They  throng  the  air  and  darken  heaven, 
And  rule  the  lower  world." 

I  called  my  husband  to  look  out  and  see  how 
dark  it  was.  After  gazing  a  little  at  the  horri- 
ble sight,  he  said, 

"Hattie,  get  me  my  lantern  and  I  will  hold  it 
out  of  the  window,  and  perhaps  that  will  give 
a  little  light." 

I  did  so,  and  he  held  out  the  lantern,  but  it 
seemed  to  have  no  effect  on  the  thick  blackness 
that  surrounded  us.  It  was  all  light  within, 
however,  and  he  turned  to  me  and  said, 

"Well,  Hattie,  we  have  light  in  our  own 
house  ;  thank  God  for  that !" 

Suddenly  he  turned  and  said, 

"Hattie,  get  me  my  trumpet ;  we  will  try 
what  God's  word  will  do." 

I  started  off  to  get  it,  expecting  to  find  a  sil- 
ver trumpet,  audio,  wrhen  I  found  it,  it  proved 
to  be  an  old  ram's  horn  which  looked  as  if  it 
had  come  down  from  the  days  of  Joshua  and 
Jericho,  and  was  so  old  that  it  was  worn  full  of 
holes. 

"Get  that  old  Bible,"  said  he,  "and  cut  out 
that  text  of  Scripture  wrhich  says  :  'There  is 
none  other  name  under  heaven,  given  among 
men,  whereby  we  must  be  saved.' "  Acts  iv.  12. 

I  cut  out  the  text,  and  as  it  lay  in  my  hand 

295 


Dreams  and  Impressions. 

it  seemed  to  crumble  to  pieces,  until  each  word 
and  letter  separated,  each  letter  seeming  as 
large  as  a  buckshot.  He  then  took  them  one 
at  a  time  and  blew  them  through  the  trumpet 
into  the  darkness,  with  all  his  might,  each  blast 
seeming  to  force  its  way  partly  through  the 
jjloom.  But  still  the  cloud  hum;  thick,  and 

O  O 

everything  above  seemed  dense,  dark,  and 
devilish. 

Presently  he  said,  "This  will  not  be  sufficient ; 
Hattie,  get  me  another  passage  :  'If  any  man 
preach  any  other  gospel  unto  you  than  that  ye 
have  received,  let  him  be  accursed  !'"  Gal.  i.  9. 

I  did  as  I  was  requested,  and  he  sent  that 
message  out  through  the  trumpet,  in  the  same 
way.  This  seemed  to  produce  a  little  more 
effect ;  it  shot  through  the  horrible  pall  that 
overhung  us  ;  so  that  we  could  see,  shining 
through  the  gloom,  a  'light  like  one  bright, 
solitary  star ! 

"AVe  are  making  some  progress,"  he  said; 
"but  there  is  another  passage  we  want,  which  I 
think  will  do  the  work :  'Behold,  he  cometli 
with  clouds;  and  every  EYE  SHALL  SEE  HIM,  and 
they  also  which  pierced  him ;  and  all  kindreds 
of  the  earth  shall  wail  because  of  him.'"  Rev. 
i.  7. 

I  cut  the  passage  out,  and  it  crumbled  up 
•M 


Dreams  and  Impressions. 

like  the  others,  and  he  blew  it  through  the 
trumpet ;  and  as  he  sounded  blast  after  blast, 
the  words  seemed  to  cut  their  way  through  the 
hosts  of  evil.  The  foul  spirits  would  give  back, 
allowing  the  light  of  heaven  to  shine  through  ; 
then  they  would  gather  up  again,  but  would 
seem  repelled  as  by  an  electric  shock,  until, 
finally,  confusion  seemed  to  roll  through  the 
infernal  hordes  ;  they  began  to  bite  and  devour 
each  other,  and  at  last  the  whole  host  were 
scattered,  dispersed,  and  driven  away  out  of 
sight. 

When  this  was  done,  and  the  sky  was  clear, 
he  sank  down  pale  and  exhausted.  It  seemed 
as  if  he  hardly  had  any  life  remaining  in  him ; 
but  I  thought,  "Oh  how  glad  I  am  that  he  has 
blown  this  last  trumpet-blast  before  he  was 
exhausted  and  worn  out !"  Upon  this  I  awoke 
and  told  the  dream,  shortly  after  surprisingly 
suggested  by  events  of  a  personal  nature. 

Sometime  about  the  year  1879,  while  residing 
at  the  same  place,  I  had  another  dream,  which 
impressed  me  most  disagreeably.  I  dreamed 
that  I  entered  a  spacious  room,  and  looking  up, 
saw  what  seemed  to  be  a  large  picture-frame, 
and  my  husband  standing  in  it.  His  body 
seemed  concealed  behind  the  frame,  but  his 
head  and  chest  were  visible,  and  the  material 
297 


Dreams  and  Impressions. 

of  the  frame  seemed  closely  fitted  around  him, 
so  that  he  was  hemmed  and  packed  in,  and 
could  not  move.  I  exclaimed, 

"Why,  Horace  !  how  did  you  get  in  there?" 

His  appearance  worried  me.  He  seemed 
surrounded  by  a  mass  of  marble  of  lighter  and 
darker  shades  of  drub,  which  seemed  to  be 
sculptured  in  alto-relievo,  or  raised  work.  1 
drew  near  to  examine  it,  and  found  to  my  hor- 
ror, that  it  was  nothing  but  snakes,  packed  and 
matted  together  as  closely  as  they  could  be, 
and  all  turned  to  solid  rock.  They  had  been 
alive,  but  were  now  dead  and  petrified.  There 
were  three  large  ones,  which  seemed  to  stand 
out  prominently  from  the  others,  and  every  crev- 
ice and  interstice  between  them  was  filled  with 
little  snakes,  all  solid  stone,  dead  and  cold,  and 
polished  till  they  shone  like  a  mirror.  My  hus- 
band seemed  entirely  conscious  of  his  position, 
and  remained  quite  composed,  unable  to  escape, 
and  yet  entirely  void  of  fear  or  anxiety. 

"Well,"  I  said,  "if  they  are  snakes,  they  are 
dead ;  they  won't  bite  you ;  they  cannot  hurt 
you.  But  how  can  we  ever  break  that  frame  ?" 

He  seemed  perfectly  calm  and  cool,  as  much 

as  to  say,  "It  is  useless  to  struggle  or  fret." 

And  there  my  dream  ended ;  and  I  awoke  in  a 

state  of  mind  not  particularly  enviable  or  com- 

298 


Dreams  and  Impressions. 

fortable,  and  not  anxious  to  have  my  dream 
interpreted  or  to  see  it  fulfilled.  Some  similar 
dreams  had  been  followed  by  suc'.i  experiences 
with  '"snakes  in  the  grass,"  and  "  perils  amono- 
false  brethren,"  that  my  husband  had  said  to 
me,  "For  mercy's  sake  don't  dream  any  more 
of  your  snake  dreams;  "  and  here  was  a  now 
one,  which  seemed  worse  than  its  predecessors. 
And  in  the  trying  experiences  that  followed, 
and  the  "many  adversaries"  that  strove  to 
block  the  "  great  and  effectual  door"  that  was 
opened,  there  were  many  things  which  we  need 
not  recount,  which  reminded  us  most  forcibly 
of  this  strange  dream. 

I  do  not  lay  stress  upon  such  things  as  these, 
but  while  I  cling  closely  and  simply  to  the  word 
of  God  for  guidance  and  direction,  I  do  not 
know  that  I  am  warranted  in  disregarding  any 
admonitions  that  come  to  me,  whether  asleep 
or  awake,  that  so  powerfully  impress  my  mind. 
And  while  I  do  not  profess  to  have  the  skill  of 
Joseph  or  Daniel  in  the  interpretation  of 
dreams,  I  have  yet  seen  many  circumstances 
which  have  led  me  to  give  heed  to  warnings 
which  have  seemed  to  be  bestowed  in  kindness 
and  in  mercy  ;  and  which,  in  the  end,  have  been 
fully  justified  by  facts  in  the  experience  of 
myself  and  those  near  and  dear  to  me. 

299 


A  JONAH  YOYAGE. 


It  has  been  said  that  the  general  who  never 
made  a  mistake  never  won  a  battle.  Some 
people  claim  that  they  always  do  right,  perhaps 
because  they  are  too  ignorant  to  see  their  own 
faults,  or  too  stubborn  to  confess  them  when 
they  do  see  them.  I  can  make  no  such  claims 
to  perfection  of  judgment  or  conduct,  but  am 
obliged  to  confess  that  I  have  often  erred  from 

O 

the  right  path,  and  can  heartily  join  with  those 
who  say,  "AU  we,  like  sheep,  have  gone  astray  ; 
we  have  turned  every  one  to  his  own  way  ;  and 
the  Lord  hath  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us 
all."  Isa.  liii.  6. 

It  has  been  hard  at  times  to  decide  between 
differing  courses,  and  when  I  have  felt  a 
mother's  responsibilities,  and  the  love  of  home 
and  family  have  asserted  themselves,  my  heart 
has  so  longed  for  the  peace  and  quiet  of  my 
humble  dwelling,  and  the  society  of  the  loved 
ones  there,  that  it  has  been  difficult  to  decide 
to  protract  my  labors  in  distant  regions,  often 
surrounded  by  strangers  and  those  who  have 
^300 


A    Jonah    Voyage. 

little  sympathy  with  the  work  of  the  Lord ; 
and  sometimes  I  have  shrunk  back  from  duties, 
or  hastened  home  from  fields  that  were  white 
and  ready  for  the  harvest. 

The  summer  of  1880  was  to  me  a  continued 
scene  of  sickness  and  distress.  In  the  early 
spring  my  husband's  sister  returned  from  a  six 
years'  absence  in  Mexico,  where  she  had  worn 
herself  out  in  mission  labor,  teaching,  and 
orphanage  work.  Before  she  had  recovered 
her  health,  I  was  taken  ill  with  a  complication 
of  diseases  which  brought  me  to  the  gates  of 
death.  Repeatedly,  my  life  was  despaired  of 
by  physicians  and  friends,  who  watched  over 
me  with  constant  care,  but  with  little,  and  often 
no,  hope  of  my  recovery.  But  the  Lord  had 
mercy  upon  me,  and  I  was  raised  up  from  my 
bed  of  pain  and  suffering  ;  and  with  increasing 
strength  came  a  desire  to  labor  in  the  Master's 
cause ;  and  after  a  silence  of  about  eleven 
months,  I  was  permitted  to  engage  again  in 
gospel  work,  and  had  the  joy  of  seeing  several 
precious  souls  confess  their  faith  in  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ. 

Near  the  close  of  the  year  1880,  I  received  a 

letter  from  one  of  our  old-time  southern  friends, 

who  had  removed  from  Tennessee  to  the  western 

borders  of  Arkansas,  containing  the  Macedonian 

301 


A   Jonah    Voyage. 

cry,  "Come  over  and  help  us."  Souls  were 
perishing  there,  the  young  were  growing  up 
without  Christ,  and  my  friends  were  urgent 
in  entreating  me  to  visit  them,  and  enjoy  the 
oenefits  of  a  milder  climate  during  the  winter 
months,  and  improve  the  time  by  seeking  to 
save  some  souls  from  death. 

I  laid  the  matter  before  the  Lord,  telling 
him  that  I  had  not  the  means  for  the  journey, 
and  that  my  husband  could  not  afford  to  pay 
the  expense,  as  his  own  unpaid  labors  in  the 
gospel,  accompanied  with  his  large  distribution 
of  religious  reading  among  the  destitute,  had 
left  him  without  funds  for  such  a  purpose  ;  and 
hence,  if  it  was  the  Lord's  will  that  I  should 
go,  he  must  provide  the  money  for  the  journey. 

A  few  days  later,  a  lady,  Mrs.  S ,  was 

impressed  to  call  at  the  Repository,  and  leave 
"twenty-five  dollars  for  Mrs.  Hastings."  She 
did  so,  making  no  suggestions  as  to  the  disposal 
of  it.  This  money  I  laid  aside,  as  it  was  not 
enough  for  the  journey,  and  prayed  for  more, 
if  it  was  the  Lord's  will  that  I  should  go  to 
Arkansas.  About  a  week  later,  another  lady 
in  Maine,  who  had  formerly  been  an  inmate  of 
our  family,  sent  a  postal  order  for  thirty  dollars, 
"for  sister  Hastings."  When  my  husband 
came  home  and  told  me  that  this  thirty  dollars 
302 


A    Jonah     Voyage. 

had  come,  my  heart  sunk  at  the  thought  of 
again  leaving  my  family,  and  I  almost  regretted 
that  I  had  prayed  thus.  But  the  way  of  duty 
seemed  plain,  as  I  had  money  enough  to  pay 
my  fare  to  the  place  of  my  destination,  pro- 
vided by  persons  who  knew  nothing  of  my 
plans  or  prayers  ;  and  so,  without  gainsaying,  I 
prepared  for  the  journey. 

On  the  evening  of  January  5,  1881,  after 
having  my  trunk  packed  with  Bibles,  books, 
tracts,  and  papers,  I  bade  adieu  to  my  dear 
ones  and  started  alone  from  the  Providence 
railway  station,  via  New  York  and  St.  Louis, 
for  Arkansas,  somewhat  feeble  from  my  late 
sickness,  but  full  of  inward  peace  and  trust.  I 
arrived  in  New  York  Thursday  morning,  Jan- 
uary 6th,  in  a  driving  storm.  For  my  morning 
walk  from  the  boat  to  the  railway  station,  I 
had  snow,  rain,  wrater,  and  mud,  and  went  in 
over  shoes.  My  feet  were  as  wet  as  though  I 
had  been  in  a  bath  ;  there  was  no  one  near  to 
render  assistance ;  and  had  my  friends  been 
there,  they  would  probably  have  said,  "That 
will  be  the  end  of  her  mission  wrork." 

I  soon  got  on  board  the  train,  and  found  a 

nice    warm   place  in   the    carriage,  where   the 

steam-pipes  ran  through,  Avhere  my  feet  were 

well  warmed   until  they  were    perfectly  dry ; 

303 


A    Jonah    Voyage. 

after  which,  though  I  had  previously  been  quite 
lame,  I  had  no  more  lameness  in  my  feet  for  a 
long  time. 

Saturday  morning  I  arrived  in  St.  Louis, 
quite  well,  having  stood  the  journey  grandly ; 
and  had  an  excellent  visit  with  sister  Prescott, 
after  which  she  accompanied  me  to  the  station 
and  saw  me  safe  on  board  the  train  en  route  for 
Little  Rock,  Arkansas,  where  I  arrived  next 
day,  and  was  well  cared  for  by  brother  and 
sister  Graham.  After  resting  until  the  mor- 
row, and  enjoying  the  fellowship  of  the  saints 
there,  I  started  on  my  way,  January  14th,  fol- 
lowed by  the  prayers  and  blessings  of  the  kind, 
Christian  friends  at  Little  Rock. 

At  the  depot  in  Little  Rock  was  a  great 
crowd  of  poor  white  and  colored  people,  bound 
for  Texas  ;  some  of  the  women  having  scarcely 
clothes  enough  to  keep  them  half  comfortable, 
their  children  being  without  shoes  to  their  feet. 
If  ever  I  coveted  means  to  help  the  poor,  it 
was  then.  My  heart  ached  when  one  poor 
woman  asked  me  if  I  could  give  her  a  postage 
stamp  so  that  she  could  write  to  her  poor  old 
mother.  I  had  one  stamp  and  a  sheet  of  paper 
which  I  had  saved  to  write  home  with  ;  I  gave 
it  to  her,  with  some  words  of  cheer,  and  longed 
for  the  time  when  sin  and  the  curse  should  be 
304 


A    Jonah    Voyage. 

removed,  when  the  desert  should  blossom  as  the 
rose,  and  the  poor  find  peace  and  joy  and  rest. 

The  railway  carriages  were  full  of  emigrants  ; 
the  men  dressed  well  and  warmly,  with  heavy 
overcoats,  but  the  women  and  children  very 
scantily  clad,  and  shivering  with  cold  ;  the  stove 
being  surrounded  with  men,  so  that  the  women 
could  hardly  get  near  it. 

After  a  day's  ride,  I  reached  Van  Buren, 
where  I  was  gladdened  by  meeting  brother 

O  «/  O 

M ,  whose  wife  had  written  me  to  come  to 

Arkansas.  I  found  on  arriving  that  the  weather 
was  unusually  cold  for  that  region — the  mercury 
was  said  to  be  ten  degrees  below  zero,  and  the 
ice  on  the  river  ten  inches  thick.  We  crossed 
on  a  ferry-boat,  which  was  frozen  in,  and 
was  two  or  three  hours  making  its  way  across 
the  river.  We  arrived  at  Fort  Smith  in  the 
evening,  and  the  next  day  pursued  our  way  in 
a  big  lumber  wagon,  which  was  the  best  con- 
veyance for  those  roads,  so  new  and  rough  that 
a  lighter  carriage  would  last  there  but  a  short . 
time.  We  soon  came  in  sight  of  brother 

M 's,  and  I  wras  rejoiced  to  see  once  more 

the  faces  of  old  friends  who  loved  the  gospel, 
and  were  ready  to  do  anything  in  their  power 
to  spread  it  abroad. 

I  found  in  this  new  south-western  field  an 

305 


A   JonaJi     Voyage. 

open  door,  and  held  meetings  here  and  there, 
almost  daily.  Different  places  of  worship  were 
open  to  me,  and  people  came  from  far  and 
near  to  hear  the  word  of  truth.  Some  fifteen 
souls,  at  different  times,  expressed  their  deter- 
mination to  follow  the  Lord  and  start  for  the 
heavenly  kingdom.  One  stranger,  who  had 
not  been  in  a  religious  meeting  for  years,  was 
passing  by,  and  stopped  in  to  hear  a  lady  speak  ; 
his  heart  was  touched,  and  he  came  out  rejoic- 
ing in  the  Lord,  and  confessed  his  faith  in  his 
Saviour.  Christians  rejoiced  to  see  their  chil- 
dren turn  to  God,  and  recent  communications 
give  reason  for  believing  that  permanent  good 
was  done  in  the  Master's  name. 

The  weather,  however,  was  so  intensely  cold 
that  many  suffered  from  it ;  as  the  houses 
there,  though  more  comfortable  and  commo- 
dious than  in  many  parts  of  the  South,  were 
not  adapted  to  resist  such  unusual  cold. 

I  felt  also  some  discouragement  because  those 
who  professed  a  desire  for  salvation  did  not 
seem  to  make  the  progress  I  had  anticipated  ; 
and  as  the  weather  was  unfavorable,  the  cold 
intense,  and  my  friends  from  Iowa  had  written, 
urging  me  to  visit  them,  under  all  the  circum- 
stances, I  began  to  think  of  starting  on  my 
homeward  journey. 

306 


A    Jonah     Voyage. 

It  was  proposed  by  some,  that  I  visit  certain 
mineral  springs,  some  twenty-five  or  thirty 
miles  away,  and  labor  there  for  a  while,  using 
the  mineral  waters  for  my  own  benefit ;  but 
money  was  not  very  abundant,  and  I  was 
getting  homesick  ;  so,  finally,  on  the  fourteenth 
day  of  February  I  started,  via  St.  Louis,  for 
Iowa. 

I  stayed  in  St.  Louis  a  day  or  two,  telegraph- 
ing to  my  husband  for  counsel  as  to  what  course 
to  take.  He  wanted  to  say,  "Come  home," 
but  felt  afraid  to  dictate,  and  left  me  to  follow 
my  own  convictions ;  and  I  concluded  to  visit 
my  friends  in  Iowa,  and  then  return  East. 

Accordingly,  on  the  evening  of  February 
18th,  I  took  the  train  north  from  St.  Louis, 
and  started  on  what  proved  to  be  the  most 
terrible  journey  of  my  life.  The  exceptional 
cold  of  the  early  part  of  the  winter  was  fol- 
lowed by  terrific  storms,  tempests,  hurricanes, 
•and  "blizzards."  Obstructions  hemmed  us  in 
on  every  side  ;  railway  tracks  were  buried,  trains 
were  snow-bound,  mails  were  stopped,  commu- 
nication was  cut  off,  and  for  weeks  my  friends 
at  home  and  elsewhere  could  get  no  tidings 
from  me,  and  knew  not  whether  I  was  sick  or 
well,  dead  or  alive.  At  length,  by  telegraph- 
ing to  my  friends  at  Lake  Mills,  Iowa,  my 
307 


A    Jonah     Voyage. 

husband  learned,  March  20th,  that  I  was  well 
and  about  to  start  for  home. 

The  following  account  is  extracted,  with 
additions,  from  a  letter  written  to  a  friend  in 
Arkansas  after  my  return  to  Boston  : 

"I  suppose  the  dear  ones  in  Arkansas  are 
wondering  what  has  become  of  me,  as  I  prom- 
ised you  a  letter  soon  after  leaving.  Perhaps 
I  may  as  well  begin  from  the  commencement 
and  tell  the  whole  story. 

"After  leaving  you  I  came  to  Little  Rock 
ind  stayed  one  night.  They  urged  me  to  remain 
^ith  them  and  labor  a  little,  but  I  was  in  doubt 
concerning  duty,  and  in  some  haste  to  visit  my 
friends  in  Iowa,  and  so  I  thought  it  was  best  to 
go  on.  Coming  to  St.  Louis,  I  remained  a 
short  time,  and  then  started,  February  18th, 
for  Iowa,  expecting  to  arrive  at  Lake  Mills, 
where  my  friends  resided,  in  about  a  day  and  a 
half. 

"When  I  reached  Cedar  Rapids,  Iowa,  I 
learned  to  my  sorrow  that  we  could  not  get 
through  on  account  of  the  depth  of  the  snow, 
and  so  we  were  snow-bound  there  for  two  or 
three  days.  When  .word  came  that  we  should 
soon  start  on  our  journey,  all  hearts  were  glad, 
and  there  was  great  rejoicing  among  the  trav- 
elers, for  we  hoped  in  a  few  hours  to  see  our 
SOS 


A    Jonah     Voyage. 

loved  ones.  A  short  ride  brought  us  to  Water- 
loo, where  we  stopped  again,  and  found  that 
the  roads  were  all  blocked  by  the  snow,  and  it 
was  not  possible  to  get  through. 

"You  may  well  believe  that  by  this  time  I 
began  to  question  whether  it  was  right  for  me 
to  go  on,  and  to  feel  that  I  was  a  Jonah,  who 
had  left  work  which  I  should  have  remained  to 
finish.  Of  course  this  was  not  very  pleasant 
for  me  to  think  of,  and  I  was  heart-sick,  and 
wished  myself  back  in  Arkansas  ;  but  I  could 
neither  get  one  way  or  the  other,  for  we  were 
hemmed  in  on  every  hand.  So  we  tried  to  be 
as  happy  as  we  could,  being  obliged  to  spend 
our  spare  money,  which  was  not  very  pleasant, 
as  my  funds  were  getting  low.  But  the  hotel 
keepers  found  a  mine  in  the  travelers'  pockets, 
and  they  did  not  neglect  their  opportunities. 

"By  and  by  the  news  came  that  we  should 
go  on  at  such  an  hour,  and  we  started  in  high 
spirits,  expecting  that  we  should  soon  reach 
our  place  of  destination.  After  the  train  had 
started,  some  of  the  travelers  were  so  happy 
that  we  were  favored  with  several  sweet  songs, 
which  served  to  pass  away  the  time  pleasantly. 
Soon  after,  we  came  to  a  stop,  and  lo  !  before  us 
lay  a  snoAv-bound  train  that  had  jumped  the 
track.  The  engine  had  bounded  along  without 
309 


A   Jonah    Voyage. 

regard  to  rule  or  rail,  until  it  had  ploughed  its 
way  into  a  deep  snow-drift,  bringing  everything 
to  a  stand-still.  The  passenger  carriages  were 
overturned,  one  man  was  killed,  and  several 
wounded,  and  we  again  found  that  we  must  go 
back,  for  there  was  no  possibility  of  clearing 
the  track  that  night.  There  was  not  help 
enough  to  be  obtained,  and  there  was  only  one 
engine,  as  the  others  had  already  been  injured ; 
so  we  returned  to  Waterloo  in  a  very  different 
state  of  mind  from  that  in  which  we  left  it. 
The  next  morning  they  said  we  should  probably 
go  soon ;  and  so,  in  order  to  be  on  hand  at  a 
moment's  notice,  we  took  the  coach  and  went 
down  to  the  station  ;  where  there  wras  only  one 
room,  occupied  by  two  or  three  women  with 
children,  one  sick  person,  and  a  crowd  of  men, 
smoking,  drinking,  and  playing  cards  to  pass 
away  the  time. 

"We  waited  there  until  twelve  o'clock;  and 
then  counted  the  hours  until  one,  two,  and 
three  in  the  afternoon,  and  began  to  grow 
discouraged  and  heart-sick.  Finally,  at  four 
o'clock,  we  heard  them  getting  up  steam,  and 
at  the  word,  'All  aboard  !'  were  soon  again  on 
our  way.  We  wrent  on  a  few  miles  to  Osage, 
where  wre  learned  that  the  track  northward  was 
buried  in  snow,  and  had  not  been  open  for 
310 


A   Jonah    Voyage. 

some  days.  Here  I  found  a  hearty  welcome 
and  a  comfortable  home  at  the  house  of  my 
niece,  Mrs.  Belding.  The  rest  of  the  company 
had  still  to  endure  disappointment  and  delay. 

"After  remaining  at  Osage  three  or  four 
days,  word  came  that  the  line  was  open;  and 
I  took  the  train  at  five  o'clock,  on  Tuesday 
morning,  March  1st,  accompanied  by  my 
nephew's  little  daughter, — who  had  been  visit- 
ing at  her  aunt's,  and  was  going  with  me  to  her 
parents  at  Lake  Mills, — and  started  for  a  short 
ride,  expecting  to  be  at  my  journey's  end  in 
about  two  hours. 

"In  about  half  an  hour  after  we  started,  the 
snow  commenced  to  fall.  The  storm  from  the 
south  had  overtaken  us,  and  another  from  the 
north  was  driving  down  upon  us,  and  both 
seemed  to  meet  and  pile  the  snow  upon  us  in 
the  most  terrific  manner.  People  said  there 
had  never  been  such  a  storm  known  in  that 
country  since  its  settlement,  and  I  never  in  my 
life  witnessed  anything  like  this  terrible  'bliz- 
zard.' The  very  air  seemed  dark  with  the 
flying  masses  of  snow  and  ice,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  see  any  distance,  through  the 
raging  storm. 

"A  short  ride  brought  us  to  Austin,  on  the 
borders  of  Minnesota,  where  we  were  obliged 
311 


A   Jonah    Voyage. 

to  wait  several  hours.  While  in  the  station  at 
Austin,  a  gentleman  came  into  the  waiting 
room,  and  sitting  clown  by  the  stove,  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands,  and  groaned  and  sighed 
in  anguish.  Another  man  came  in  and  asked 
him, 

"  'How  many  did  you  order?' 

"  'I  ordered  a  hundred,'  said  he,  'and  God 
only  knows  how  many  more  will  be  needed 
when  I  get  home.' 

"  'Good  mercy  ! '  said  the  other,  'a  hundred 
coffins ! ' 

"I  inquired  of  one  of  the  men  in  the  station, 
and  he  said  the  coffins  were  ordered  for  the 
poor  settlers  in  Dakotah,  who  had  perished  in 
the  terrible  cold. 

"On  the  wide,  treeless  prairies,  where  the 
people  depend  for  fuel  on  supplies  of  coal 
obtained  at  the  railway  stations,  some  families, 
blockaded  by  snow-drifts,  had  burned  their 
furniture  and  buildings ;  and  many,  unable  to 
obtain  material  to  feed  their  fires,  had  frozen 
to  death.  My  heart  was  sick  at  the  thought  of 
the  wide-spread  woe  of  the  poor  frontiersmen, 
who  were  exposed  to  such  fearful  sufferings. 

"After  waiting  at  Austin,  we  went  on  two 
or  three  miles  to  Ramsey  Junction,  where  we 
were  obliged  to  stop  and  change  cars,  w'e' 
312 


A    yonah    Voyage. 

taking  a  train  westward,  while  the  train  we  left 
started  northward  towards  Minneapolis. 

"There  was  a  lady  on  the  train  who  Avas 
removing  to  the  West  with  four  little  children, 
three  of  them  under  six  years  of  age,  who  was 
going  the  same  way  we  were.  We  learned 
that  there  was  no  hotel,  and  only  one  little 
restaurant  at  the  Junction.  Most  of  the  pas- 
sengers went  back  to  Austin  to  the  hotel,  but 
as  my  money  was  nearly  expended,  and  as  I 
wanted  to  start  at  the  first  opportunity,  I 
remained  at  Ramsey.  The  station  was  small, 
and  the  floor  looked  as  if  it  would  take  several 
washings  to  find  it.  The  mother  of  the  four 
little  ones  had  no  bedding,  but  she  put  the 
children  away  to  rest  upon  the  floor,  covering 
them  as  best  she  could,  and  sat  and  watched 
over  them  through  the  night.  Fires  were  kept 
up  in  the  station,  which  made  the  room  quite 
comfortable.  I  went  down  to  the  saloon,  and 
begged  the  privilege  of  stopping  there.  The 
woman  said  she  had  no  beds  or  rooms,  all  were 
taken  up,  and  there  was  no  fire  in  the  parlor 
and  no  place  for  any ;  but  if  I  could  make 
myself  comfortable  I  could  stay.  I  found 
there  was  nothing  for  me  to  do  but  to  lie  down 
on  the  floor  without  pillow  or  blanket.  My 
little  niece  was  frail,  and  I  was  afraid  she  would 
313 


A   Jonah    Voyage. 

take  cold,  so  I  covered  her  us  well  as  I  could 
with  a  shawl,  and  kept  my  cloak  buttoned  close 
about  me  ;  but  I  was  so  cold  !  No  one  but  the 
Lord  knows  what  I  suffered  that  night.  I  was 
really  afraid  of  having  congestive  chills.  As 
soon  as  the  day  broke,  I  went  over  to  the 
station  and  warmed  myself  by  the  fire,  thanking 
God  that  I  had  lived  through  the  night.  After 
a  while  the  saloon  keeper  brought  me  some 
cakes  and  tea,  so  I  was  somewhat  refreshed. 

"In  the  morning,  as  the  accommodations 
were  meagre,  some  of  the  railway  men  told  us 
that  we  had  better  get  on  board  the  train,  and 
they  would  try  to  make  us  as  comfortable  as 
they  could.  TV'e  did  so,  and  they  took  us  out 
quite  a  distance  on  a  prairie,  which  was  many 
miles  in  length,  without  a  tree  in  sight.  There 
was  no  station  or  hotel  near,  but  there  were 
two  farm-houses  in  sight,  standing  in  a  track- 
less waste  of  snow,  the  nearest  being  perhaps 
a  mile  distant.  The  men  then  filled  the  boxes 
with  coal,  uncoupled  the  engine,  leaving  us, 
two  women  with  five  little  children,  to  make 
ourselves  as  comfortable  i\s  we  could  in  the 
storm,  while  they  went  on  to  shovel  snow  with 
a  company  of  men  who  had  been  sent  out  to 
clear  the  track. 

"After  they  left  us  the  storm  increased,  and 
314 


A    Jonah     Voyage. 

became  so  severe  that  they  themselves  were 
bound  in  with  the  snow,  which  buried  the  line 
between  them  and  us,  so  that  there  was  no 
going  forward  or  backward.  And  there  we 
were,  on  a  prairie  wild  with  storm  and  tempest, 
the  wind  howling  enough  to  take  the  train  from 
the  track,  if  there  had  not  been  so  much  snow 
that  it  was  impossible. 

"The  rest  of  the  week  seems  like  a  horrible 
dream.  The  day  passed  away  and  there  was 
no  news  from  the  engine;  the  night  was  dark, 
and  full  of  storm  and  tempest ;  the  next  day 
came,  and  the  half-dozen  little  biscuits  which  I 
had  brought  with  me  were  gone ;  the  children 
were  crying  for  bread,  and  I  was  so  ill  it  was 
almost  impossible  for  me  to  lift  my  head, 
having  been  taken  with  a  severe  bilious  attack, 
accompanied  with  vomiting,  which  continued  for 
three  days  and  nights.  The  mother  of  the  four 
little  ones,  alarmed  and  almost  desperate, 
started  for  the  nearest  house  to  get  bread  for 
her  children.  We  watched  her  as  she  waded 
through  snow  to  her  waist,  to  the  house,  and 
after  a  long  delay  we  were  glad  when  we  saw 
her  turn  back  with  her  arms  full  of  provisions. 
The  men  were  all  gone  to  shovel  snow  on  the 
railway,  but  the  women  gave  her  what  aid  they 
could.  On  her  way  back  we  saw  her  halt  in 
315 


A   Jonah    Voyage. 

the  snow-drifts,  and  \ve  knew  that  she  had 
hard  work  to  get  through ;  but  I  could  do 
nothing,  I  was  so  ill.  She  finally  reached  us, 
having  nearly  perished  with  the  cold,  being 
almost  ready  before  she  got  there  to  give  up 
the  struggle  and  freeze  to  death.  She  had 
become  drowsy,  and  was  beginning  to  feel 
comfortable,  which  was  a  sign  the  vital  forces 
were  yielding  to  the  terrible  cold ;  but  the 
thought  of  her  hungry  children  nerved  her  to 
press  forward,  and  you  may  be  sure  there  was 
great  rejoicing  when  she  reached  us. 

"My  memory  of  these  terrible  days  is  some- 
what confused  and  indistinct,  but  it  was,  I 
think,  about  twelve  o'clock  the  second  night, 
that  we  heard  the  sound  of  the  whistle,  and 
knew  that  the  engine  was  near.  Our  coal  was 
getting  low,  and  we  rejoiced  when  we  heard 
the  sound.  The  men  said  they  should  not 
have  dared  to  start  and  push  through,  but  they 
were  afraid  we  should  freeze  to  death.  But 
the  Lord  heard  prayer,  the  track  was  cleared, 
and  on  Saturday  night,  we  reached  the  village 
of  Albert  Lea,  Minn.,  where  we  found  our- 
selves again  blockaded  by  snow.  We  stayed 
there  Saturday  night  and  Sunday,  and  on 
Monday  started  on,  arriving  at  Lake  Mills, 
Iowa,  that  night,  alive,  with  a  glad  heart  but 
316 


A   Jonah    Voyage. 

a  sick  head,  having  been  attacked  with  severe 
neuralgia  on  my  journey. 

"I  think  I  made  a  mistake  when  I  turned 
my  back  on  the  Springs  you  wished  and  urged 
me  to  visit.  I  never  felt  so  much  like  a  'Jonah ' 
as  I  did  on  this  journey,  and  would  have  given 
much  to  have  the  privilege  of  going  back  and 
asking  the  Lord  once  more  to  guide  my  feet  in 
the  path  that  he  would  have  me  take.  But  I 
could  only  repent,  and  ask  pardon  of  the  Lord  ; 
and  my  tender  Father  was  ready  to  forgive. 
This  I  knew,  and  it  was  a  great  comfort  to  me  ; 
but  I  was  ill  all  the  time  I  was  with  my  friends, 
so  that  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  get  around 
and  have  meetings. 

"After  remaining  in  Lake  Mills  a  few  days, 
and  speaking  there  one  evening,  I  started 
homeward,  and  came  to  Norttnvood,  Iowa,  and 
there  learned  that  trains  could  not  get  through  ; 
so  I  was  snow-bound  again.  I  stayed  at  North- 
wood  until  Monday,  March  22d,  then  started 
again  for  Cedar  Rapids,  being  told  that  the 
track  Avas  clear.  By  this  time  the  snow  had 
begun  to  thaw,  and  at  one  place,  for  some  twro 
or  three  miles,  the  track  Avas  covered  with 
water,  through  which  the  train  slowly  and 
cautiously  made  its  way.  At  Cedar  Rapids, 
we  again,  to  our  great  disappointment,  found 
317 


A    Jonah    Voyage. 

the  line  blockaded  with  snow.  Another  night 
was  spent  at  the  hotel,  and  the  next  day  we 
started  for  Clinton ;  but  soon  came  to  a  halt 
and  were  told  that  we  could  <jo  no  further. 

O 

There  was  another  disappointed  company.  We 
stayed  at  Clinton,  remaining  on  the  train  all 
night.  The  next  morning  we  resumed  our 
journey  to  Chicago.  At  one  point  we  passed 
through  a  snow-drift  said  to  be  fifteen  feet  high, 
and  many  miles  in  length;  the  snow  having 
drifted  in  and  filled  the  space  between  the  high 
board  fences  on  either  side  of  the  railway.  A 
passage  had  been  cut  in  this  immense  drift,  and 
we  passed  through,  the  snow  striking  the  car- 
riages every  few  moments,  and  making  it  seem 
as  though  some  one  was  throwing  snow-balls 
at  us. 

"By  the  utmost  exertion,  the  railway  com- 
pany succeeded  in  clearing  the  track,  and  we 
went  on  to  Chicago,  which  was  a  most  desolate 
looking  city.  The  snow  was  piled  in  heaps, 
each  side  of  the  way,  so  that  it  was  almost 
impossible  to  get  about  the  city,  except  on  the 
street  cars.  The  track  was  kept  clear,  but  the 
streets  were  full  of  snow,  and  hemmed  in  with 
wagons,  and  all  sorts  of  vehicles.  It  took  us  a 
long  time  to  get  to  the  depot,  the  horses  fall- 
ing down  on  the  way;  but  at  length,  on  the 
318 


A    Jonah    Voyage. 

afternoon  of  March  23d,  I  started  eastward, 
via  Canada  and  Niagara  Falls.  I  arrived  at 
Niagara  on  the  morning  of  March  24th,  finding 
the  ground  bare  of  snow,  and  really  looking 
like  God's  country,  and  as  if  summer  was  com- 
ing sometime.  It  was  such  ti  change,  within  a 
few  hours,  from  snow-drifts  fifteen  feet  high, 
to  no  snow  at  all !  The  next  morning,  Friday, 
March  25,  1881,  I  reached  Boston,  and  walked 
into  the  Tract  Repository.  Noon  found  me  at 
home  with  the  loved  ones,  and  you  may  well 
believe,  a  gladder  child  than  I  was,  never  lived. 
I  had  been  absent  seventy-seven  days,  had 
journeyed  nearly  four  thousand  miles,  but, 
though  weary  and  weather-beaten,  I  reached 
home  in  comfortable  health,  and  having  'ob- 
tained help  of  God,  I  continue  unto  this  day,' 
trusting  in  the  mercy  of  the  Most  High,  and 
rejoicing  that,  though 

'  Much  of  my  time  has  run  to. waste, 
And  I  perhaps  am  near  my  home, 
Yet  he  forgives  my  follies  past, 
And  gives  me  strength  for  days  to  come.* " 


October,  1881. 

319 


HOW    TO    HELP^RESIST    INFIDELITY. 

First— Scud  '2~>  cents  or  more  to  II.  L.  HASTINGS,  49  Cornhill, 
Boston,  Mass  ,  L"  S.A.,  for  some  specimens  of  THE  ANTI-INFIDEL 
LIBRARY,  edited  by  him,  and  read  them.  Then  you  can  judge 
whether  the  work  should  be  extended.  Over  thirty  numbers  of 
the  ANTI-INFIDEL  LIBRARY  are  now  issued.  Others  to  follow. 

Second— Make  them  known  to  others. 

Third— Ask  your  local  bookseller  or  newsagent  to  order  some 
copies,  and  place  showbills  in  his  windows.  And,  to  induce 
him  to  do  it,  you  might  guarantee  him  against  loss,  by  ottering  to 
take,  at  cost,  whatever  copies  he  might  fail  to  sell. 

Fourth — Call  the  attention  of  Clergymen,  Ministers,  Colpor- 
teurs, and  City  Missionaries  to  these  publications,  as  especially 
useful  among  Sceptics,  Infidels,  Secularists,  and  persons  who  are 
undecided  or  unsettled  in  their  religious  convictions. 

Fifth— Give  copies  to  sceptics  and  unbelievers  ;  or,  better 
still,  send  them,  or  order  them  to  be  sent,  by  j>o*t,  that  they  may 
not  know  the  source  from  whence  they  come,  sending  one  at  a 
time  at  short  intervals,  and  praying  for  a  blessing  upon  them. 

Sixth — Suggest  to  persons  who  are  in  the  habit  of  purchasing 
quantities  of  tracts  for  distribution,  that  it  would  be  well  to 
include  copies  of  these  among  others. 

Seventh — Enclose  copies  of  these  suggestions  (furnished  freely), 
and  also  specimens  of  the  various  numbers  of  the  ANTI-INFIDEL 
LIBRARY  and  GRAPE  SHOT  Leaflets,  to  Christian  friends,  and  ask 
them  to  use  their  influence  in  extending  their  circulation.  And 
remember  that  every  tract  purrhaictl  furnishes  means  to  print 
another  to  take  its  place.  Copies  may  also  be  sent  by  post  to 
Ministers  of  the  Gospel,  City  Missionaries,  Foreign  Missionaries, 
and  Christian  Workers,  many  of  whom  have  found  help  in  their 
labours  by  suggestions  contained  in  these  publications. 

Eighth — There  are  many  expenses  connected  with  an  enterprise 
like  this,  such  as  printing,  postage,  stationery,  &c.,  and  numerous 
calls  for  publications  for  gratuitous  distribution.  We  do  not  feel 
that,  after  meeting  all  these  demands,  to  the  best  of  our  ability, 
we  are  further  called  upon  to  specially  solicit  the  aid  of  others 
who  may  best  learn  their  duty  from  their  Master  and  ours.  But, 
if  friends  desire  to  help  us  in  a  work  that  is  far  beyond  our  own 
strength  and  means  to  accomplish,  their  contributions  will  be 
thankfully  received  and  carefully  applied.  While  it  is  intended 
that  the  work  shall,  so  far  as  possible,  be  self-supporting,  yet  the 
Enemy  has  had  a  long  start,  and  it  is  important  that  immediate 
and  energetic  efforts  I  e  put  forth  to  stay  the  progress  of  unbelief, 
and  to  publish  abroad  truths  which  have  long  been  neglected  and 
assailed.  Hence  extra  expenses  shoitlcl  be  provided  for  to  give 
the  work  a  fair  start  at  once. 

Chucks,  for  donations,  <tc.,  should  be  made  payable  to  fl.  L.  Hastinps,  and  tent  to  eithrr  nf 
the  Addresses  below,  at  most  convenient.    Arrangements  for  lectures  by  Mr.  Hastings  can  be  made. 

H.    L.    HASTINGS'    SCklfTURAL    TRACT    nEPO^ITORY. 
BOSTON,  U.S.A. :  49  CORNHILL,        I      LONDON  :  10  PATERNOSTER  Row, 
H.  L.  HASTINGS.  MARSHALL!,  Bli'OS.,  AGENTS. 


GRAPE  SHOT.— NO.  15.  The  Monthly  Message.— No.  48. 

THE  EARL  AND  THE  CANNIBAL 


By  II.  L.  HASTINGS. 


A  story  is  told  of  an  old  Fijian  chief  and  an  English  earl  —  an 
infidel  —  who  visited  the  Fiji  Islands.  The  Englishman  said  to  the 
chief:  "You  are  a  great  chief,  and  it  is  really  a  pity  that  you  have 
been  so  foolish  as  to  listen  to  the  missionaries,  who  only  want  to  get 
rich  among  you.  No  one  nowadays  would  believe  any  more  in  that 
old  book  which  is  called  the  Bible;  neither  do  men  listen  to  that  story 
about  Jesus  Christ;  people  know  better  now,  and  I  am  sorry  for  you 
that  you  are  so  foolish."  When  he  said  that,  the  old  chief's  eyes 
flashed,  and  he  answered  :  "  Do  you  see  that'great  stone  over  there  ? 
On  that  stone  we  smashed  the  heads  of  our  victims  to  death.  Do  you 
see  that  native  oven  over  yonder  ?  In  that  oven  we  roasted  the  human 
bodies  for  our  great  feasts.  Now^  you!  you!  YOU!  —  if  it  had  not 
been  for  these  good  missionaries,  for  that  old  boo<<,  and  the  great  love 
of  Jesus  Christ,  which  has  changed  us  from  savages  into  God's  chil- 
dren, you!  you  would  never  leave  tins  spit!  You  have  to  thank  God 
for  the  Gospel,  as  otherwise  you  would  be  killed  and  roasted  in  yon- 
der oven,  and  we  would  feast  on  your  body  in  no  time !  " 

The  Gospel  will  make  even  a  cannibal  peaceful  and  harmless ;  but 
without  the  Gospel  civilized  men  may  become  as  fierce  and  as  brutal 
as  the  cannibals  ever  were.  Think  of  the  French  infidels  of  a  century 
ago,  clad  in  human  skins  from  their  tannery  at  Meudon,  and  wearing 
for  wigs  the  scalps  of  their  decapitated  victims.  Think  of  the  anarch- 
ists, nihilists,  and  dynamiters  of  to-day  ;  and  then  think  what  human- 
ity is  without  God,  and  what  the  world  would  be  if  the  Gospel  and  the 
Bible  were  banished  from  it. 

Infidelity  should  be  met  with  popular  and  inexpensive  yet  carefully 
prepared  pamphlets  on  Christian  Evidences.  To  this  end  over  forty  brief, 
pointed  pamphlets  have  been  issued  as  the  ANTI-INFIDEL  LIBRARY, 
edited  and  published  by  H.  L.  HASTINGS.  47  Cornhill,  BOSTON,  MASS. 
Send  25  cts.  for  sample  copies,  including  "  The  Inspiration  of  the  Bible," 
of  which  over  two  million  copies,  in  fourteen  languages,  using  47  tons  of 
paper,  have  been  issued.  "  One  of  the  best  things  that  ever  was  written."— 
D.  L.  MOOOY.  Catalogues  free. 

Testimonial.—  We,  the  undersigned,  do  most  heartily  commend  Mr. 
Hastings'  anti-infidel  publications  to  the  confidence  and  support  of  all 
Chri.-tians  and  philanthropists.  LORD  KINNAIRD,  GEORGE  WILLIAMS, 
IRA  D.  SANKEY,  JOSEPH  COOK,  CANON  WILBERFORCK.  JOSEPH  PARKER, 
DANIEL  DORCUESTKR,  A.  J.  GORDON,  GEO.  F.  PENTECOST,  AND  OTHERS. 

THE    ANTI-INFIDEL    LIBRARY. 

"  I  do  not  know  of  anything  in  the  Knglish  tongue  that  meets  the  cur- 
rent scepticism  so  well  as  these."  —  A.  T.  fierson,  D.D.,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

TEN  CENT   SERIES. 
The  Inspiration  of  the  Bible. 

"  One  of  the  most  important  essays  of 
nioder    times."  — LORD  SHAFTESBI'RY. 
Ke  narks on  the  '  Mistakes  of  Moses  " 
Friendly  Hints  to  Candid  Inquirers. 
Testimony  of  Christ  to  the  Old  Test. 
'Who  Made  the  New  Testament? 
Number  in  Nature. 
Israel's  Meesiih 
Israel's  Greatest  Propbet. 
Nuts  for  Skeptics  to  Crack. 


LARGER    SERIES. 

,,rtln  History  and  Prophecy.  16  cts. 

Infidel  Testimony  to  the  Bible.  1O  cts. 

The  Bible  Triumphant.  25  <:ts. 

Corruptions  of  the  New  Test.  15  cts. 

Scientific  Star-Building.  15  cts. 

Geological  Evolution.  15  cts. 

The  Origin  of  Life.  lOcts. 

Darwinism  15  cts. 

Atheism  and  Arithmetic.  15  cts. 

The  Wonderful  Law.  2Octs. 

The  Separated  Nation.  2O  cts. 


THE  MONTHLY  MESSAGE.— Quarterly.  Per  year  .Wets. ;  per  pound,  so  cts.  April  1. 
1KM  -  Entered  at  the  Boston  Post  office  MS  second-class  matter.— Published  by  H.  L. 
Hastings,  47  Cornhill,  Boston,  Mass.— 200  M. 


Say,  Brother,  Shall  We  Meet? 


H.  L.  Hastings,  about  1858.         8s.   &  78. 
, „,,.     >      >      .    .— J- 


Mrs.  H.  L.  Hastings,  1867. 


--*=r- 


Sh"all    we  meet  beyond  the    riv-er,    Where  the    surges    cease  to  roll?     ) 
Where,  in      all  the  bright  for-  ev  -  er.      Sor-  row  ne'er  shall  press  the  soul?   J 
Shall    we  meet  th?    ho-ly    myr-iads,   Who  are    ransomed  from  the  grave? 
•      •      »      -      *      »          »        »  Fine. 


D.C. 


J     ^-jrJM^r 

~9*       "*"  ^ 


Shall 

iff 


we  meet  with  those  de-part  -  ed,  Who  have  bow'd  be-neath  death's  wave? 

t  C7  "T  p£i— !T— ^- 


*=ft=? 


t — r~*i 


Chorut. 


EK 


9 


5AaW    tre  meetf  Shall  we 


<Say,  .  .    Broth  -er,     thall  ve  meetf 


t 


i 


t 


Shall  we  meet  in  glory's  morning. 

After  time's  dark  gloomy  night  ? 
Shall  we  hail  its  radiant  dawning, 

Scattering  sorrow  with  its  light  ? 
Shall  we  meet  where  all  time's  shadows 

To  oblivion  flee  away  ? 
Shall  we  meet  amid  the  brightness 

Of  an  everlasting  day  ? 

Shall  we  meet  in  that  blest  harbour, 

When  our  stormy  voyage  is  o'er  ? 
Shall  we  meet  and  cast  the  anchor 

By  the  fair  celestial  shore  ? 
Shall  we  meet  from  all  our  labours 

'Mid  the  swelling  of  the  tide  ? 
Shall  we  meet  and  rest  for  ever, 

By  our  blessed  Saviour's  side  ? 

Shall  we  meet  those  buds  of  promise 

Blighted  by  death's  chilling  hand  ? 
Shall  we  see  their  fadeless  beauty 

Blooming  in  the  goodly  land  ? 
Shall  our  hearts  no  more  lie  bleeding 

"Neath  the  strokes  of  sorrow's  rod? 
Shall  love's  bands  no  more  be  sundered, 

In  the  paradise  of  God  ? 


Shall  we  meet  with  Christ  our  Saviour, 

When  he  comes  to  claim  his  own  ? 
Shall  we  know  his  blessed  favour, 

And  sit  down  upon  his  throne  ? 
Will  he  bid  us  share  his  glory, 

Where  no  shame  shall  ever  be  ? 
Will  he  bid  us  sing  his  praises, 

On  that  radiant  crystal  sea  ? 

Shall  we  meet,  O  weary  wanderer, 

Say,  oh,  will  you  meet  me  there, 
When  earth's  glory  shall  be  darkness, 

And  its  joy  shall  be  despair  ? 
When  before  the  throne  of  judgment 

We  shall  all  together  stand, 
Will  you  pray  and  strive  to  meet  me 

With  the  blest  at  Christ's  right  hand  ? 

Shall  we  meet  with  all  the  ransomed, 
When  our  pilgrimage  is  past  ? 

Shall  we  reach  that  blessed  mansion 
We  so  long  have  sought,  at  last  ? 

Shall  we  meet  beyond  the  desert, 
Far  beyond  the  weary  road  ? 

Shall  we  rest  in  joy  immortal- 
Shall  we  in  our  flesh  see  God  ? 


From  Songn  of  Pilgrimage,  1.533  Hymns  with  Music.    By  H.  L.  HASTINGS,  BOSTOS,  MASS., 
49Cornhill;  LONDON:  MARSHALL  BROTHERS.    Cloth, $1.00;  Half  Leather, $1.25. 
"  I  am  greatly  pleased  with  it.     It  is  the  largest  and  finest  collection  of  standard 

hymns  I  have  ever  seen."-lRA  D.  SANKKY.  "An  admirable  collection."-S.  F,  SMITH,  D.D. 


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